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FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI 


b:i,eonora  duse 

AS   FRAXCKSCA   DA   RIMINI 


FRANCESCA 
DA    RIMINI 

By  GABRIELE  D'  ANNUNZIO 


TRANSLATED      BY 

ARTHUR    SYMONS 


NEW  YORK    •    FREDERICK  A. 
STOKES  COMPANY  •  PUBLISHERS 


A 


mor  che  al  cor  gentil  ratto  s'apprende 
mor  che  a  nullo  amato  amar  perdona  . 
mor  condusse  noi  ad  una  morte. 


Copyright,  1902, 
By  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Cosipany, 


Francesca  da  Rimini ;  Tragedia  Gahriele  D' Annun:(io, 
,  Copyright,  1902, 

By  Fratelli  Treves. 


4lc 


TO   THE    DIVINE 
ELEONORA     DUSE 


INTEODUCTION. 


"  Francesca  da  Rimini  "  was  acted  for  the  first 
time  at  Rome,  by  Eleonora  Duse  and  her  company, 
on  December  9,  1901.  Has  there,  since  "  Her- 
naui,"  been  such  a  battle  over  a  play  in  verse? 
The  performance  lasted  five  hours,  and  many  of 
the  speeches  were  inaudible  oa  account  of  the 
noise  in  the  theatre.  Since  then  the  play  has  been 
freely  cut,  it  has  been  acted  with  the  greatest  suc- 
cess in  the  chief  cities  of  Italy,  and  has  raised 
more  discussion  than  any  play  in  verse  of  this 
century.  The  translation  which  follows  has  been 
made  from  the  unabridged  text. 

The  play  is  written  in  blank  verse,  but  blank 
verse  so  varied  as  to  be  almost  a  kind  of  vpm  lihre. 
This  form  of  blank  verse  is  not  new  in  Italian.  It 
is  to  be  found  in  the  pastoral  tragedies  of  the 
Renaissance,  in  Tasso's  "Aminta,"  in  Guarino's 
"  Pastor  Fido."  We  need  only  open  Leopardi  to 
see  almost  exactly  the  same  structure  of  verse. 
Take  these  lines  of  Leopardi  ("  Sopra  un  basso  re- 
lievo antico  sepolcrale  ") : 

"  Morte  ti  chiama  ;  al  cominciar  del  giorno 
L'  ultimo  istanfo.     Al  niilo  onde  ti  parti 
Non  tf)rncrai.     li'asjxitt.o 
I)r'  tnoi  (Inlci  imrcnli 
Lasci  per  senipre.     11  loco 


viii  INTB  OB  UCTION. 

A  cui  mova,  h  sotterra: 

Ivi  fia  d'  ogui  tempo  il  tuo  soggiorno." 

Now  take  these  lines,  chosen  at  random  from 
■'  Francesca" : 

"Ma  giammai 
m'eran  fiorite,  come  in  questo  maggio, 
tante,  tante  !    Sou  cento, 
son  piu  di  ceuto.     Guarda  ! 
S'  io  le  tocco,  m'  abbruccio. 
Le  vergini  di  Sant'  Apollinari 
non  ardono  cosi  nel  loro  cielo 
d'oro." 
In  English  we  shall  find  the  most  perfect  exam- 
ple of  blank  verse  varied  into  half-lyric  measures 
in  some  of  the  choruses  and  speeches  of  "  Samson 
Agonistes." 

"  But  who  is  this?    What  thing  of  sea  or  land — 
Female  of  sex  it  seems — 
That  so  bedecked,  ornate,  and  gay, 
Comes  this  way  sailing, 
Like  a  stately  ship 
Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  the  isles 
Of  Javan  and  Gadire, 
With  all  her  bravery  on,  and  tackle  trim, 
Sails  filled,  and  streamers  waving, 
Courted  by  all  the  winds  that  hold  them  play?" 
Matthew    Arnold,    in    "  Empedocles    on    Etna," 
"The  Strayed   Reveller,"   and   some  of   his  most 
famous    meditative    pieces,   has    used    the  same 
metre,    carrying  his   experiment   indeed  further, 
and  playing  with  pauses  in  a  more  complicated 
way,  not   always,  to  my  ear,  with   entire  success. 
I  am  not  sure  that  metre  such  as  this  can  ever 
really  become  an  English  metre: 

*'  Thou  guardest  them,  Apollo! 
Over  the  grave  of  the  slain  Pytho, 


INTRODUCTION.  ix 

Though  youn;:,  intolerably  severe! 

Thou  keei)est  aloof  the  profane, 

But  the  solitude  oppresses  thy  votary. 

The  jars  of  meu  reach  him  not  in  thy  valley, 

But  can  life  reach  him? 

Thou  fencest  him  from  the  multitude: 

Who  will  fence  him  from  himself? 

Mr.  Henley  has  made  for  himself  a  rough,  service- 
able metre  in  unrhymed  verse,  full  of  twitching 
nerves  and  capable  of  hurrying  or  dragging. 

"  Space  and  dread  and  the  dark — 
Over  a  livid  stretch  of  sky 
Cloud-monsters  crawling  like  a  funeral  train 
Of  huge  primeval  presences 
Stooping  beneatli  the  weight 
Of  some  enormous,  rudimentary  grief; 
While  in  the  haunting  loneliness 
The  far  sea  waits  and  wanders  with  a  sound 
As  of  the  trailing  skirts  of  Destiny 
Passing  unseen 
To  some  immitigable  end 
With  her  gray  henchman,  Death." 

Now  the  essential  difference  between  the  metre 
of  d'Annunzio  and  these  other  instances  of  a  simi- 
lar metre  is  that,  with  d'Annunzio,  the  metre  is 
purely  a  means  to  an  end,  a  dramatic  end.  lie 
has  aimed  at  giving  variety  and  emphasis  to  blank 
verse,  so  as  to  make  the  verse  render  the  speaker's 
mood  with  the  greatest  exactitude.  Where,  in 
ordinary  blank  verse,  a  single  line  is  broken  up 
into  two  or  three  small  speeches,  which  have  to  bo 
fitted  into  tlu;ir  five  feet  with  an  ingenuity  which 
on  tlie  stage  at  least,  goes  for  nothing,  lie  lets  his 
short  linos  stand  more  frankly  by  them.selves 
And  he  nmulds  a  long  speech  into  greater  flexi- 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

bility,  letting  the  voice  pause  on  a  single  short 
line  coming  after  longer  lines,  for  emphasis,  or 
running  a  short,  unaccentuated  line  rapidly  into 
the  next,  in  a  very  effectual  kind  of  enjambement. 
Yet,  with  all  its  variety,  this  metre  is  not,  as  is  so 
much  contemi>orary  French  vers  libre,  a  vague, 
unregulated  metre,  which  may  be  read  equally  as 
prose  or  as  verse,  and  in  which  one  has  to  search 
for  the  beat  while  one  is  reading  it.  The  beat  is 
always  regular,  clear,  unmistakable.  With  the 
exception  of  a  few  dactylic  passages,  of  which  the 
most  important  occurs  in  the  address  to  the  fire, 
it  is  strictly  iambic,  and  it  is  made  of  the  normal 
verse  of  five  feet,  subdivided  into  verse  of  three 
feet  and  two  feet.*  As  far  as  I  recollect,  the 
verse  of  four  feet  is  never  used,  nor  can  I  find  a 
verse  of  four  feet  in  the  blank  verse  of  Leopardi, 
though  it  is  freely,  and,  I  think,  legitimately,  used 
by  every  English  experimenter  in  this  metre. 
Italian  verse,  with  its  incessant  elisions,  its  almost 
invariable  double  endings,  lends  itself,  better  than 
that  of  any  other  living  language,  to  a  metre 
which,  in  d'Annunzio's  hands,  becomes  so  easy, 
so  much  like  prose,  and  yet  so  luxurious,  so  rich 
in  cadence.  In  the  translation  which  follows,  I 
have  of  course  rendered  the  double  endings,  for 
the  most  part,  by  single  endings,  using  double 
endings  at  my  discretion,  as  in  ordinary  English 


*  Sig.  d'Annunzio  writes  to  me:  "I  have  added 
to  the  verse  of  eleven  and  of  seven  syllables,  the 
verse  of  five,  which  is  also  iambic  in  structure. 
Til  us  the  metre  is  formed  of  the  hendecasyllable 
and  of  its  two  hemistichs  (11-7-5.)," 


INTRODUCTION.  xi 

blank  verse.  My  version  is  literal,  alike  in  words 
and  rhythm,  but  my  lines  do  not  in  every  case 
correspond  precisely  with  the  lines  of  the  original. 
They  are  intended  to  reproduce  every  effect  of  the 
original,  as  that  can  best  be  done  in  English  verse, 
written  on  the  principle  of  d'Annunzio's  Italian 
verse. 

In  order  to  render  the  form  of  the  original  as 
closely  as  possible,  I  have  often  used  weak  endings 
which  I  should  not  have  used  had  I  been  writing 
verse  of  my  own.  Take,  for  instance,  these  lines, 
which  will  be  found  on  p.  25  of  the  Italian  and  also 
of  the  English  : 

"  Con  qui  parlavi  ?     Con  le  donne  ?    Come 
sei  venuto  ?     Rispondi  mi  ?    Sei  tu 
di  Messer  Paolo  Malatesta  ?    Su, 
rispondi  !" 

In  my  elisions  I  have  tried  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  Italian  as  far  as  I  could,  without  abso- 
lutely violating  the  principles  of  English  verse, 
and,  in  short,  I  have  done  all  I  could  to  make  a 
faithful  copy,  at  the  risk  of  leaving  it  "  a  mere 
strict  bald  version  of  thing  by  thing,"  which. 
Browning  tells  us  in  the  preface  to  his  translation 
of  the  "  Agamemnon,"'  is  after  all,  what  the  reader 
of  a  translation  should  first  of  ail  look  for  and 
expect  to  find. 

The  motto  of  "  Francesca  da  Rimini '"  might 
well  be  the  line  of  Dante: 

'*  Noi  che  tingemmo  il  mondo  di  sanguigno," 
and  the  play  is  more  than  a  tragedy  of  two  lovers, 
it  is  a  study  of  an  age  of  blood,  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury in  Italy.     In  the  real  story,  Paolo  and  Fran- 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

cesca  were  both  married,  she  a  mother  and  he  a 
father  of  children,  and  it  was  only  after  ten  years 
of  marriage  that  Gianciotto  surprised  them  to- 
gether and  stabbed  them.  'Dante,  in  the  fifth 
canto  of  the  "Inferno,"  leaves  out  all  but  the  bare 
facts  of  love  and  death.  D'Annunzio  refers  once 
or  twice  to  the  wife,  Orabile,  but  not  to  the 
children,  nor  does  he  leave  anj'  long  interval 
between  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  passion. 
But  he  gives  us  two  people  of  flesh  and  blood, 
luxurious,  pondering  people,  who  love  beautiful 
things,  and  dream  over  their  memories;  yet  peo- 
ple who  have  no  characteristics  that  might  not 
have  existed  in  an  Italian  man  and  woman  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  Paolo  is  a  perfect  archer,  we 
see  him  shoot  an  arrow  from  the  battlements, 
which,  we  are  told  later,  has  gone  through  the 
throat  of  one  who  mocked  his  brother  to  his  face; 
we  hear  of  his  armour,  his  hor.se,  as  well  as  of  his 
skill  in  music  and  the  gentler  arts.  Francesca  is 
full  of  tender  feeling,  and  some  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful lines  in  the  play  are  the  lines  which  she 
speaks  to  her  sister.  But,  as  the  man-at-arms  on 
the  battlements  says  of  her: 

"  Quella 
Non  e  gia  donna  di  paura." 

She  questions  him  about  the  Greek  fire  which  he  is 
stirring  in  a  cauldron,  and  lights  one  of  the  fiery 
staves,  indifferent  to  the  danger,  intent  only  on  the 
strange,  new,  perilous  beauty.  She  is  exalted  by 
the  sight  of  the  blood-red  roses  growing  in  the  sar- 
cophagus, and  she  cries  to  the  roses.  Violent  deeds 
go  on  around  her  wherever  she  is.     In  her  father's 


INTR  OB  UCTION.  xiii 

house  brother  fights  with  brother,  and  it  is  her 
brother's  bleeding  face  which  appears  to  het 
through  the  barred  window,  with  ominous  signifi- 
cance, at  the  close  of  the  first  act,  as  she  sees 
Paolo  for  the  first  time,  and  offers  him  a  rose.  In 
the  house  of  her  husband  she  sees  fighting  from 
the  walls,  and  her  husband's  brother,  Malatestiuo, 
is  brought  in  wounded  in  the  eye.  There  is  a 
prisoner  whose  cries  come  up  from  the  dungeons 
underground,  while  Malatestino,  who  is  after- 
wards to  betray  her  to  her  husband,  persecutes  her 
with  his  love.  She  hates  cruelty,  but  like  one  to 
whom  it  is  a  daily,  natural  thing,  always  about 
her  path. 

"  To  fight  in  l)attle  is  a  lovely  thing, 
But  secret  slaying  in  the  dark  I  bate," 

the  says  to  her  husband,  as  she  tells  him  of 
his  brother's  thirst  for  blood.  Towards  her  hus- 
band her  attitude  is  quite  without  modern  sub- 
tlety; he  has  won  her  unfairly,  she  is  unconscious 
of  treachery  towards  him  in  loving  another; 
she  has  no  scruples,  only  appreliensions  of  some 
unlucky  ending  to  love.  And  when  that  end- 
ing comes,  and  the  lover  is  caught  in  the  trap- 
door, as  he  is  seeking  to  escape,  and  the  husband 
pulls  him  up  by  the  liair,  and  kills  them  both,  the 
husband  has  no  moralising  to  do;  he  bends  his 
crooked  knee  with  a  painful  movement,  picks  up 
his  sword,  and  breaks  it  across  the  other  knee 

The  action  of  the  play  moves  slowly,  but  it 
moves;  behind  all  its  lyrical  outcries  there  is  a 
hard  grip  on  the  sheer  facts  of  the  age,  the  defi- 
nite   realities   of    the   passion.    D'Annuuzio  has 


xlv  introduction: 

learnt  somethin<T  from  Wagner,  not  perhaps  tbe 
best  that  Wagner  had  to  teach,  iu  his  over-ampli- 
fication of  detail,  his  insistence  on  so  many  things 
beside  the  essential  things,  his  recapitulations, 
into  which  he  has  brought  almost  the  actual 
Wagnerian  "  motives."  When  the  moment  is 
reached  which  must,  in  a  play  on  this  subject,  be 
the  great  moment  or  the  moment  of  failure,  when 
the  dramatist  seems  to  come  into  actual  competi- 
tion with  Uante,  d'Annunzio  is  admirably  brief, 
significant,  and  straightforward.  In  the  scene  iu 
which  "  Galeotto  fu  il  libro,  e  chi  loscrisse,"  he 
has  made  his  lovers  read  out  of  the  actual  book 
out  of  which  Dante  represents  them  as  reading, 
the  old  French  romance  of  "Lancelot  du  Lac," 
and  the  words  which  they  repeat  are  the  actual 
words  of  the  book,  put  literally  into  Italian. 

It  is  not  any  part  of  my  purpose  to  compare 
"Francesca  da  Rimini  "  with  Mr.  Stephen  Phillips' 
"Paolo  and  Fi-ancesca,"  but,  after  translating  this 
scene,  I  had  the  curiosity  to  turn  to  the  corre- 
sponding scene  in  the  English  play.  The  differ- 
ence between  them  seemed  to  be  the  difference 
between  vital  speech,  coming  straight  out  of 
a  situation,  and  poetising  round  a  situation.  In 
d'Annunzio  you  feel  the  blind  force  and  oncoming 
of  a  living  passion;  and  it  is  this  energy  which 
speaks  throughout  the  whole  of  a  long  and  often 
delaying  play.  Without  energy,  "  la  grace  litte- 
raire  supreme,"  as  Baudelaire  has  called  it,  beauty 
is  but  a  sleepy  thing,  decrepit  or  boi-n  tired.  In 
"Francesca  da  Rimini"   beauty  speaks  with  the 

voice  of  life  itself. 

Arthur  Syraons, 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 


Sons  and  Daughters  of  Guido 
Miuore  da  Polenta. 


Francesca's  Women. 


OSTASIO. 

Bannino. 

Francesca. 
Samabitana. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Alda. 
Garsenda. 
Altichiara.     r 

AnONELT^A.  ' 

The  Slave.         J 

Skr  Toldo  Berardengo. 

ASPINKLLO  ARSKNDI. 

ViviANO  De'  Vivii. 
Bertrando  Luro.  \ 

An  Archer.  '' 

Giovanni,  "  The  Lame," 
known  as  Gianciotto. 
Paolo  "The  Beautiful." 
Malatestino  "The  One-eyed." 

Oddo  Dalle  Ca.minate. 
FoscoLo  D'Olnano. 
Arc  hens. 
Men-afc-Arms.  ) 

The  Merchant.  The  Merchant's  Boy.  The  Doc- 
tor. The  Jester.  The  A-strolopjer.  The  Musi- 
cians.    The  Torchhearers. 

Scene  :  At  Itarenna,  in  the  Ifon/tf  of  the  Polentani; 
at  Himinl,  in  the  House  of  the  Malatesti. 


Partisans  of  Guido. 


Sons  of  Mala- 

testa  da  Vei-- 

rucchio. 


Partisans  of  Mala- 
testa. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI 


FKANCESCA  DA  KIMINI 


ACT  I. 


A  Court  in  the  House  of  the  Polentani,  adjacent  to  a 
garden  that  shines  brightly  through  a  marble 
screen,  pierced  in  the  form  of  a  transept.  A  log- 
gia runs  round  it  above,  leading  on  the  right  to 
the  loomen's  apartments,  and  in  front,  supported 
on  small  pillars,  affords  a  double  view.  On  the 
left  is  a  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  the  thres- 
hold of  the  enclosed  garden.  At  the  back  is  a 
large  door,  and  a  low,  barred  window,  through 
which  can  be  seen  a  range  of  arches  surrounding 
another  larger  court.  Near  the  steps  is  a  Byzan- 
tine sarcophagus,  without  a  lid,  filled  with  earth, 
like  a  flower  pot,  in  which  grows  a  crimson  rose- 
bush. 


The  Women  are  seen,  leaning  over  the  loggia,  and 
coming  dovm  the  stairs,  gazing  curiously  at  the 
Jkster,  who  carries  his  viol  hanging  by  his  side, 
and  in  his  hand  an  old  jerkin. 

Ar.DA. 
Jester,  hey,  Jester  ! 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Garsenda. 
Adonella,  Adonella,  here  is  the  Jester 
In  the  court!    O  Biancofiore, 
The  Jester  !  he  has  come  ! 

Adonella. 
Are  the  gates  open  yet  ? 

Biancofiore. 
Let's  make  the  Jester  sing. 
Alda. 
Hey,  tell  me,  are  you  that  Gianni  .  .  . 

Jester. 
Sweet  ladies  .  .  . 

Alda. 
That  Gianni  -who  was  coming  from  Bologna  ? 
Gian  Figo  ? 

Garsenda. 
Are  you  Goidello  who  is  coming  from  Ferrara? 

Jester. 
Dear  ladies  ... 

Adonella.    r 
What  are  you  seeking  there  ? 

Jester. 
The  trail  of  the  scent. 

Biancofiore. 
We  brew  in  limbecs  oils  of  lavender, 
And  oils  of  spikenard. 

Jester. 
I  am  no  apothecary's  pedlar,  I. 

Altichiara. 
You  shall  have  a  bunch  though,  my  good  night- 
ingale, 
If  you  will  sing. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  9 

Gaksenba. 
Look  at  him,  how  he  droops  ! 

Jester. 
Fair  ladies,  have  you  .  .  . 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Yes, 
Heaps  upon  heaps. 

Adonella. 

Bags  full 
And  coffers  full  of  it.     Madonna  Francesca 
Can  dip  her  beauty,  if  she  has  a  mind  to, 
In  oil  of  lavender. 

Jester. 
I  thought  rather  to  find  the  smell  of  blood 
In  the  house  of  Guido. 

AliDA. 
Blood  of  the  Traversari  :  in  the  streets, 
In  the  streets  you  will  find  it. 

All. 
Polenta!    Polenta!    Down  with  the  Traversari ! 

Jester. 
Heigho!    Catch    who  catch  can,  go   free  who 

may  ! 
The  sparrows  are  becoming  sparrow-hawks. 

[Shouts  of  laughter  ring  down  the  staircase,  be- 
tween the  tvn-horned  head-dresses.] 

All. 
Grapple  with  the  Ghibelline! 

Jkhter. 
Be  quiet  now,  don't  let  the  archer  near  you, 


10  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Or  he  will  fetch  me  suddenly  such  a  bolt 
As  will  lay  me  out  my  length  for  all  my  life. 

Alda. 
You  swear  you  are  a  Guelph? 

Jester. 
By  San  Mercuriale  of  Forli 
(That  sets  the  belfry  crumbling  on  the  pate 
Of  the  Feltran  people)  I  tell  you  I  am  Guelph, 
As  Guelph  as  Malatesta  da  Verrucchio. 

Garsenda. 
Good  then,  you  are  safe;  only  be  circumspect: 
You  have  leave  to  smell. 

Jester. 
To  smell?    And  not  to  eat? 
I  am  a  dog,  then? 

How  many  bitches  are  there  in  the  place? 
Let's  see. 

[He  goes  down  on  hands  and  feet  like  a  dog,  and 
makes  for  the  women.\ 

Garsenda. 
Ah  nasty  dog! 

Alda. 
Filthy  dog! 
Altichiara. 

Wicked  dog  I 
Take  that! 

Jester. 
Ahi,  ahi,  you  have  smashed  my  viol, 
You  have  broken  my  bow. 

Adonella. 
Take  that! 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  11 

Garsenda. 
And  that! 

BlAJfCOFIORE. 

And  that! 
Jester. 
They  are  all  in  heat! 

I  would  I  knew  which  one  of  you  the  most! 

[They  all  strike  him  on  the  back  with  their  fists, 

laughing.    And  as  the  Jester  jumjys  about 

amongst  them  like  a  dog,  they  begin  to  dance 

round  him,  shaking  out  their  perfumed  skirts.} 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Take  hands,  and  dance  a  round  1 

Adonella. 
Do  you  smell  the  spice, 
Lavender  and  spikenard? 

Altichiara. 
I  am  Hame  and  ice, 
I  am  flame  and  ice ! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Fresh  in  cool  linen  is  sweet  lavender! 

Alda. 
Come  in,  bright  eyes,  into  my  garden  fair! 

Al,TICniAKA. 

An  odour  comes,  no  garden  can  I  find. 

Adonella. 
How  comes  this  lovely  odour  on  the  wind? 

All. 
Smell!    Smell! 

Garsenda. 
Sweet  shift  that  long  in  lavender  lias  lain; 


12  FRANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

Sweetheart,  the  time  of  May  has  come  again. 

All. 
Smell  1    Smell! 

Adonella. 
I  would  I  had  my  sweetheart  near  my  side, 
And  nearer  than  my  shift  is  near  to  me. 
Dear  love  is  dear  to  me! 
Dear  love  is  dear  to  me! 

All. 
Smell!  smell!  smell! 

Jesteb 
[Standing  up  and  trying  to  catch  one  of  them]. 
Catch  who  catch  can ! 
If  I  catch  one  of  you.  .  . 

[  With  cries  of  laughter,  they  run  up  the  stairs 
then  stand  panting  with  merriment.'] 
Alda 
[With  a  contemptuous  gesture]. 
You  are  no  sheep  dog,  you ! 

Garsejs^da. 
You  are  a  pantry  dog, 
Poor  Jester!  have  you  not 
More  stomach  now  for  food  than  bantering? 

Jester 
[Scratching  his  throat]. 
May  be  I  have.     I  dined  some  while  ago. 
Fine  scents  fill  no  lean  paunches. 

Gabsenda. 

Well  then,  well, 
Go  rather  to  the  Archbishop  Bonifazio, 
He  is  the  biggest  glutton 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  13 

That  eats  in  the  world :  the  Genoese.    This  house 
Is  Guide  da  Polenta's. 

Jester. 
Yellow  with  flower  of  the  black  hellebore, 
Because  there  is  no  juniper  in  the  world, 
May  all  be  salt  to  me, 

Ravenna  women  have  it  .  .  .  in  the  round, 
Salt  be  to  me ! 

Garsenda. 
Round-pated  you  yourself  I 
You  thought  to  get  the  better  of  us,  eh? 
We  have  got  the  better  of  you. 

BlANCOFIOBE. 

Sing,  Jester! 

Alda. 
Dance,  Jester! 

Jester 
[Picking  up  Ids  rag]. 
You  have  pulled  me  all  to  pieces, 
Mischief  o'  me !    Have  you,  by  chance,  a  little.  .  . 

Garsenda. 
A  little  bacon? 

Jester. 
Have  you  a  little  scarlet? 

Adonella. 
Are  you  for  jesting  with  us?    We  are  ready. 

Biancofiore. 
But  who  are  you?  that  Gianni.  .  . 

Alticiiiara. 
O,  Biancofiore,  look  what  clothes  he  has! 
The  doublet  is  at  loggerheads  with  the  hose. 


14  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Garsenda. 
He  is  Giau  Figo,  who  was  coming  from  Bologna. 

BlANCOFIOBE. 

Come  from  Bologna  without  a  bolognino. 

Alda. 
I  am  sure  he  is  of  the  Lambertazza  party. 

Gaksenda. 
An  evil  race ! 

Alda. 
He  has  been  put  to  shame 
By  the  Geremei. 

Altichiara. 
Have  you  not  lost  a  princedom,  noble  sir? 

Gaksenba. 
O,  Adonella,  look  at  him :  he  has  fled 
In  nothing  but  his  trousers. 

Jester. 
And  you  will  have  them  off  me. 

Aboneli.a. 
What  a  poor  thing!    Look  at  yourself  in  the 

glass, 
As  crooked  as  a  cross-bow  on  its  stock. 

Biancofiore. 
Now  you  will  sing  the  spoiling  of  Bologna, 
And  how  King  Enzo  was  made  prisoner. 

Garsenda. 
Have  I  not  told  you  he  is  from  Ferrara? 

Jester 
[Impatiently]. 
I  am  from  Ferrara  and  I  am  from  Bologna. 


FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  15 

Gaksenda. 
Was  it  then  you 

Who  escorted  from  Bologna  to  Ferrara 
Ghisolabella  de' Caccianiraici 
To  the  good  Marchese  Opizzo? 

Jester. 
Just  so,  just  so,  'twas  I,  just  as  you  say. 

Garsenda. 
It  was  you  too  who  made 

The  match  between  the  sister  of  the  Marquese 
And  that  old  and  rich  judge,  him  of  Gallura, 
A  shrivelled,  wizened  thing 
That  had  the  help  of  his  big  man-servant  ? 

Jester. 
Just  80,  'twas  I,  just  as  you  say;  and  I  had 
In  thanks  for  it.  .  . 

Alda. 
A  bone? 
Adonella. 

Two  chestnuts? 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Three 
Walnuts  and  a  hazel-nut? 

Alticuiaka. 
A  stump  of  pimpernel? 

Garsenda. 

A  pair  of  snails 
And  an  acorn? 

Jester. 
This  mantle  that  you  see,  of  Irish  frieze? 
No;  or  of  purple  Tyrian  samite?  no; 


18  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

But  all  of  velvet  crimson-coloured,  lined 
With  skins  of  miniver. 

Gaksenda. 

Look,  look,  Altichiara, 
The  thing  he  is  holding! 

Altichiaka. 

A  little  threadbare  cloak. 
Gaksenda. 
No,  no,  it  is  a  Romagna  jerkin. 
Alda. 

Then 
You  are  Gordello,  you  are  not  Gian  Figo. 

Adonella. 
But  no,  he  is  a  Jew. 

BlAXCOFIOBE. 

He  is  the  huckster  Lotto 
Of  Porto  Sisi. 

Altichiaka. 
Sells  fripperies  and  songs. 
Adonella. 
What  have  you  with  you?    Have  you  rags  or 
ballads? 

Jester. 
Fool  that  I  am,  I  thought  to  find  myself 
lu  the  palace  of  the  nobles  of  Polenta, 
And  here  I  am  in  a  chirping  nest  of  swallows. 

Gaksenda. 
Comfort  yourself,  I  ara  satisfied  by  now 
That  I  have  taught  you.  Master  Merrymaker, 
Eavenna  women  are  not  easily  beaten 
At  the  game  of  banter. 


PRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  17 

Jesteb. 

And  of  the  pole,  too. 
Alda. 
You  chuckle  over  it? 

Adonella. 

Will  you  whet  your  whistle? 

BlANCOFIORE. 

No,  Alda:  come  now,  make  him  sing  to  us. 

Garsenda. 
Do  you  not  see  the  sorry  sort  of  viol 
He  trails  here,  Adonella? 
It  seems  to  me  a  sort  of  pumpkin  cowled, 
With  its  big  belly  and  its  monstrous  neck. 
The  rose  is  meanly  cut, 
Here's  a  peg  missing,  here 
The  bass  and  tierce  are  gone. 
Well,  if  he  barks,  his  viol  gapes  in  answer. 
Go,  scrawl  arpeggios 
Upon  a  rebeck,  let  the  bow  alone. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

You  let  the  joke  alone,  then,  Mona  Berta. 
Let  us  see  now  if  he  knows  how  to  sing. 
Come  on  then,  Jester, 
And  sing  us,  if  you  can,  a  pretty  song. 
Do  you  know  any  of  that  troubadour 
Who  calls  himself  the  Notary  of  Lentino? 
Madonna  Francesca  knows  a  lovely  one 
Beginning  this  way:  "  Very  mightily 
Love  holds   me  captive."     Do    you  know  the 
song? 

.Testkr. 
Yes,  I  will  say  it  now, 
If  you  liave  a  little  scarlet. 


18  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Altichiara. 
But  wliat  is  it  you  want  then,  with  your  scarlet? 

Adonella. 
We  are  waiting,  we  are  waiting  I 

Jesteb. 
I  want  you,  if  you  will, 
To  put  a  patch  for  me 
Upon  this  jerkin. 

Altichiara. 
What  a  mad  idea, 
To  patch  Roraagna  woollen,  and  with  scarlet! 

Jester. 
I  pray  you,  if  you  have  it,  do  for  me 
This  service.     There  is  one  tear  here,  in  front, 
Another  on  the  elbow;  here  it  is. 
Have  you  two  scraps? 

Altichiara. 

I  will  put  it  right  for  you 
If  you  will  sing  to  us. 
But  I  assure  you,  'tis  a  novelty 
To  set  the  two  together. 

Jester. 
I  go  about  in  search  of  novelties, 
As  novel  as  myself: 
That's  just  the  reason. 
But  not  long  since  I  found  a  novelty, 
As  I  was  on  my  way : 
I  met  with  one, 
Xot  two  miles  oul;  of  here, 
That  had  his  head  of  iron, 

His  legs   of  wood,   and  talked  with  both  his 
shoulders. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  19 

BlANCOFIORE. 

This  is  a  novelty  in  very  deed, 
But  tell  us  how. 

Ado:nella. 
We  are  waiting !  we  are  waiting ! 

Jester. 
Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you.    I  met  with  one 
That  wore  an  iron  headpiece  on  his  head 
And  went  to  gather  fir-cones  in  the  wood 
Here  at  Ravenna,  and  he  went  on  crutches, 
And  when  I  asked  him  had  he  seen  about 
A  little  friend  of  mine,  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, 
Saying  by  this  means 
He  had  not  seen  him. 

BlANCOFIORE 
[contemptuoTjLsly\. 
But  this  is  a  true  thing. 

Jester. 

Am  I  not  novel, 
That  tell   true  things  for  fables?    Catch  who 

catch  can ! 
So,  you  will  do  then  what  I  asked  of  you? 
And  after  you  have  done  it. 
You  shall  wait  no  great  while  before  you  learn, 
The  occasion  offeriug,  that  Gian  Figo.  .  . 

Gaksknda. 

Ah! 
You  have  let  it  out  at  last. 

Ali^. 

He  is  Gian  Figo! 


20  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI 

Jester. 
Before  yoii  learn  Gian  Figo  is  as  wise 
As  Dinadan  the  King  of  Orbelaud's  son, 
Tliat  found  his  wisdom  by  forgetting  love. 

Altichiara. 
But  now  enough  of  this:  time  for  a  song! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

"  There  comes  a  time  to  rise  ..." 

Do- you  not  know  the  song  King  Enzo  made, 

The  King  that  lost  his  kingdom  in  a  battle 

Against  Bologna,  and  was  put  in  prison 

In  a  big  iron  cage,  and  ended  bis  life  there. 

Singing  his  soitows? 

Seven  years  ago  in  March:  I  can  remember. 

"  There  comes  a  time  to  rise,  a  time  to  fall, 

A  time  for  speaking  and  for  keeping  silence." 

Adonella. 
No,  no,  Gian  Figo, 
Tell  us  instead  the  song 
Made  by  King  John,  John  of  Jerusalem, 
"  For  the  flower  of  all  the  lands." 

Garsenda. 
No,  tell  us  that  of  good  King  Frederick. 
"  A  song  of  pure  delight." 

(Madonna  Francesca,  the  flower  of  all  Ravenna 
Knows  it)  made  for  the  flower 
Of  Soria  when  the  sire  of  Suabia 
Loved  a  most  worthy  maiden 
His  wife  had  brought  with  her  from  over  sea, 
And   brought  to  honour;  and  this  wife  of  the 

King 
Of  Suabia  was  no  other  than  the  daughter 


FltANCESCA  DA  lilMlNl.  21 

Of  John,  King  of  Jerusalem,  ami  lior  name 
Was  Isabella,  and  she  died,  and  then 
King  Fredeiick  took  for  his  wife  the  sister 
Of  the  simple  Henry  of  England ;  and  ho  loved 

her 
Exceedingly,  because,  like  our  Madonna 
Francesca,  she  was  skilled 
In  music,  and  all  ways  of  lovely  speech; 
And  this  was  the  third  wedding;  and  she,  then, 
That  sang  and  played  all  day  and  all  night  long, 
Had  .  .  . 
[BiANCOFiouE  covers  her  mouth  with  her  hand.] 

Jester. 
What  a  bibble  babble !    O  poor  King  Enzo, 
There  never  is  a  time  here  to  be  silent. 
AVhat's  to  be  done  with  nil  your  merchandise, 
(Han  Figo,  chitter,  chatter,  chattering, 
Here  are  four  voices,  and  more  like  a  thousand! 

Alticiiiara. 
Listen  to  me  now,  Ji;ster.     Let  the  King 
Alone.     He  is  dead  and  buried.     Say  instead 
"  O  mother  mine, 
(Jive   me   a    husband."     "  Tell     me    why,   my 

child." 
"That  he  may  give  me  happy.  .  .  " 
Alda. 

That  is  old ; 
Listen  to  me,  Jester. 

Ai.tichiara. 

Then,   "  Monua  Lapa, 
She  spun  and  span.  .  ." 

Alda. 

No! 


22  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Altichiara. 

Then:  "  O  garden-close, 
I  enter  and  nobody  knows." 
Alda. 

Hush! 
Altichiaka.. 

Then:  "Let's  all 
Have  seven  lovers, 

That's  one  for  every  day  of  the  week." 
Alda. 

Hush! 

Altichiara. 

Then: 
"  Monna  Aldruda,  don't  be  a  prude,  a 
Piece  of  good  news.  .  ." 
Alda. 

O  hush !     Biancofiore, 
Do  shut  her  mouth.     Jester,  listen  to  me: 
These  are  old  songs.  .  . 

Adonella. 

There's  a  new  ti'oubadour 
Known  at  Bologna:  surely  you  have  heard  him  ? 
He's  the  new  fashion  ; 

They  call  him  Messer  Guido.  .  .  Messer  Guido 
Di  .  .  .  di  .  .  . 

Jester. 
Di  Guinizello. 
He  was  one  that  went  out  with  the  Lambertazzi, 
Took  refuge  at  Verona,  and  there  died. 

Alda. 
Good,  let  him  die:  he's  for  the  Emperor. 
May  he  go  now  and  make  his  rhymes  in  hell  I 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  23 

Listen  to  me,  Jester;   tell  us  a  story 
Of  knights. 

BlAXCOFIOBE. 

Yes,  yes,  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table ! 
Do  you  know  their  stories? 
The  love  of  Iseult  of  the  golden  hair? 

Jestkr. 
I  know  the  histories  of  all  the  knights 
And  all  the  knightly  deeds  of  chivalry 
Done  in  King  Arthur's  time, 
And  specially  I  know  of  Messer  Tristan 
And  Messer  Lancelot  of  the  Lake,  and  Messer 
Percival  of  the  Grail,  that  took  the  blood 
Of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  Galahad, 
And  of  Gawain,  and  the  rest.     I  know  them  all, 

Alda. 
Of  Guenevere? 

Adonella. 
Good  luck,  Jester,  good  luck! 
We  will  tell  Madonna  Francesca  what  you  know, 
Will  we  not,  Alda? 
She  takes  delight  in  them; 
Jester,  she  will  reward  you  bountifully. 

Jestkk. 
She  will  give  me  the  remainder  .  .  . 

Adonem,a. 

What  remainder? 
Jester. 
^Miy,  the  two  scraps  of  scarlet. 

AnONKLI.A. 

She  will  give  you 
Quito  other  jjifts,  the  bountifuUest  gifts. 


24  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  liUiniL 

Rejoice  that  she  is  raarryinj?; 

Messer  Guido  marries  her  to  a  Malatesta; 

The  wedding  day  is  close  at  hand. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Meanwhile 
Tell  us  a  story:  we  are  all  ears.     "  There  is  time 
To  listen,"  said  the  prisoner. 
[They  group  themselves  about  the  Jester,  lean- 
ing towards  him:  he  begins.] 
Jester. 
How  the  fay  Morgana  sent  to  Arthur's  Court 
The  shield  foretelling  the  great  love  to  be 
Between  good  Tristan  and  the  flower-like  Iseult; 
And  this  shall  be  between  the  loveliest  lady 
And  the  most  knightly  knight  in  all  the  world. 
And  how  Iseult  and  Tristan  drank  together 
The  draught  of  love  that  Iseult's  mother,  Lotta, 
Had  destined  for  her  daughter  and  King  Mark. 
And   how   the  draught  of    love,  being  perfect, 

brought 
Both  these  two  lovers  to  one  single  death. 
[The  women  stand  listening,  the  J Kf^TER  preludes  on 

the  viol  and  sings.] 
"  Now,  when  the  dawn  of  day  ivas  nigh  at  hand, 
King  Mark  of  Cornwall  and  good  Tristan  rose.  .  ." 

The  voice  of  Ostasio 

[beliind  the  scenes]. 
Tell  him,  the  Puglian  thief. 
Tell  him,  I  say,  that  I  will  wash  my  hands 
And  feet  in  his  heart's  blood! 

Alda. 
Messer  Ostasio  ! 


FRANCESCA  DA  BUIINI.  25 

Garsenda. 

Come  away,  come,  come ! 
[They  scatter,  and  rush  up  the  stair.s,  loith  laugh- 
ter and  cries,  and  along  the  loggia.] 

Jester. 
My  jerkin,  my  good  jerkin!    1  commend  you, 
My  jerkin,  and  the  scarlet! 

Altichiara 
[leaning  over  the  loggia]. 

Come  back  at  noon: 
It  shall  be  read}\ 

Ostasio  da  Polenta  enters  by  the  great  door  at 
the  back,  accompanied  by  Sek  Toldo  Berak- 

DENGO. 

Ostasio 
[seizing  the  terrified  Jester]. 
What  are  you  doing  here,  rascal? 
Whom  were  you  talking  with,  the  women?  How 
Did  you  come  here?    Answer   me,  I  say.     Arc 

you 
From  Messer  Paolo  Malatesta?    Now, 
Answer ! 

Jester. 
O  sir,  you  arc  holding  me  too  hard. 
Ahi! 

Ostasio. 
Did  you  come  liere  with  Mcsscr  Paolo? 

Jesteic. 
No,  sir. 


26  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINL 

OSTASIO. 


You  lie ! 
Yes,  sir. 


Jester. 


OSTASIO. 

You  were  talking  with 
The  women;  what  did  you  say?    something,  no 

doubt, 
Concerning  Messer  Paolo.    What  was  it? 

Jester. 
No,  sir,  no,  sir,  only  of  Messer  Tristan. 

OSTASIO. 

Take  care;  you  do  not  trifle  with  me  twice, 

Or  you    shall   keep   this   tryst  of   yours    with 

Tristan 
Longer  than  you  intend,  unseemly  fool. 

Jester. 
Ahi,  ahil  what  have  I  done  to  vex  you,  sir? 
I  was  only  singing  something. 
I  was  only  singing  a  song  of  the  Round  Table. 
The  ladies  asked  me  for  a  history 
Of  knights.  .  .  I  am  a  Jester  and  I  sing 
From  hunger,  and  my  hunger 
Hoped  better  things  than  beating  in  the  house 
Of  the  most  noble  Messer  Guido.     I, 
That  keep  no  hack,  have  footed 
From  the  Castle  of  Calbeli 
All  the  way  here:  I  left 
Messer  Rinieri  fortifying  his  keep 
With  some  seven  hundred  strong 
Of  infantry. 


FBA^^CE;SCA  DA  niMIXL  27 

OSTASIO. 

You  come  from  Calbeli? 


Yes,  sir. 


At  Rimino? 


Jester. 

OSTASIO. 

Were  you  ever  with  the  Malatesti 


Jester. 
No,  sir;  never,  sir. 

OSTASIO. 

Then 
Tou  do  not  know  Messer  Paolo,  the  Beautiful, 
That  dotes  on  jesters,  and  would  have  them  sing 
And  play  at  all  times  in  his  company? 

Jester. 
Unluckily  1  do  not  know  him,  sir, 
But  I  would  ghuUy  know  him.     And  if  I  find 

him, 
I  pray  to  be  found  always  at  his  side. 
Long  life  to  Messer  Paolo  Malatesta! 

[He  is  about  to  retire  hastily.  Ostasio  catches 
hold  of  him  again,  and  calls  the  AitciiEU 
who  is  on  (juard  in  the  other  Court] 

Ostasio. 
Jacomello! 

Jester. 
What  have  I  done,  and  why 
Do  you  do  me  violence? 

Ostasio. 

Too  much  talk. 


28  FllANCESCA  1)A  RIMINI. 

Jestek. 

I  am  mute. 
It  is  hunger  barking  in  me.     Keep  me  prisoner 
In  the  kitchen,  and  I  will  be  as  still  as  oil. 

OSTASIO. 

Will  you  be  silent,  rascal?     Jacomello! 
I  give  this  prattle-seller  to  your  charge, 
See  that  you  bit  and  bib  him. 

Jester. 

A  spice  cake, 
Give  me  a  spice  cake. 

OSTASIO. 

Give  him  a  box  on  the  ears. 
Jester 
[As  the  Archer  thrusts  him  out\. 
When  Madonna  Francesca  knows  how  you  have 

used  me.  .  .  . 
I  am  to  sing  at  her  wedding. 
Long  life  to  Messer  Paolo  Malatesta! 

[Raying,  and  full  of  suspicion,  Ostasio   draws   the 
Notary  towards  the  sarcophayus.] 

Ostasio. 

These  jesters  and  the  like  men  of  the  Court 

Here  in  Romagna  are  a  very  plague. 

Worse  than  the  Emperor's  rabble.  They  are 
tongues 

Of  women;  they  know  everything,  say  every- 
thing; 

They  go  about  the  world 


FEANCESCA  DA  EIMINI.  29 

Spreading  abroad  their  news  and  novelties; 
Their  ears  are  at  the  keyholes  of  us  all. 
Who  wants  to  know  how  the  good  Papal  Rector 
Lay  with  the  wife  of  Lizio  da  Valbona? 
Who  wants  to  know 
How  much  Rinieri  da  Calbeli  has  taken 
Out  of  the  purses  of  the  Geremei? 
As  for  this  rascal 

That  gossipped  with  the  women  of  Francesca, 
If  he  had  been  a  jester 
Of  the  Malatesti 

By  now  the  women  had  heard  all  the  news 
There  is  to  tell  of  Paolo, 
And  all  the  cunning  plan  had  been  vain, 
Ser  Toldo,  that  you  counselled 
Out  of  your  manifold  wisdom. 
Ser  Toldo. 

As  for  him. 
He  was  so  poor  and  threadbare, 
How  could  I  take  him  for  a  follower 
Of  such  a  lordly  knight  as  Paolo, 
He  being  so  bountiful 
With  gentry  such  as  these? 
But  you  are  well-advised  in  bitting  him. 
These  creatures  of  the  Court 
May  be  by  way  of  being  soothsayers, 
And  often  steal  the  trade 
Of  tho  astrologers. 

OSTASIO. 

True.     And  this  slave 
Of  Cyprus,  that  my  sister  loves  so  dearly, 
I  have  my  doubts  of  her;  she  too,  1  think, 
Is  something  of  a  soothsayer;  I  know 


30  FEANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

That  she  interprets  dreams.     The  other  day 
I  saw  my  sister  full  of  heavy  thoughts, 
And  almost  sorrowful, 
As  if  some  evil  dream  had  come  to  her; 
And  only  yesterday 

I  heard  her  heave  such  a  long,  heavy  sigh 
As  if  she  had  a  trouble  in  her  heart, 
And  I  heard  Samaritana 

Say  to  her:  "What  is  it,  sister?    Why  do  you 
weep?  " 

Ser  Toldo. 
Messer  Ostasio,  it  is  the  month  of  May. 

OSTASIO. 

In  truth  there  is  no  pence  for  us  until 
This  marriage  is  well  over.     And  I  fear, 
Ser  Toldo,  lest  some  scandal  come  of  it. 

Ser  Toldo. 
Yet  you  know  well,  what  sort 
Of  woman  is  your  sister,  and  how  high 
Of  heart  and  mind.     If  she  see  this  Gianciotto, 
So  lamed  and  bent,  and  with  those  eyes  of  his, 
As  of  an  angry  devil. 
Before  the  marriage-contract 
Be  signed  and  sealed,  why,  neither  will   your 

father 
Nor  you,  nor  any,  of  a  certainty 
Bring  her  to  take 

The  man  for  husband,  not  although  you  set 
Your  dagger  at  her  throat,  or  haled  her  through 
Ravenna  by  the  hair. 

OsTAsro. 
I  know  it  well,  Ser  Toldo,  for  my  father 


FEANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  31 

Gave  her  for  foster-mother 
A  sword  of  his  of  a  miraculous  edi^e, 
That  he  had  tempered  iu  Cesena  blood 
When  he  was  Podesta. 

Ser  Tolpo. 

Well  then,  I  say, 
If  this  be  so,  and  you  desire  the  match, 
There  is  no  other  way  to  compass  it. 
And  seeing  that  Paolo  Malatesta  comes 
As  procurator  of  Gianciotto  here, 
And  with  full  powers 
For  the  betrothal  of  Madonna  Francesca, 
I  say  you  should  proceed 
Instantly  to  the  marriage. 
If  you  would  sleep  in  peace,  Messer  Ostasio. 
Paolo  is  a  fair  and  pleasant  youth, 
And  makes  a  brave  decoy. 
Undoubtedly;  yet  it  is  far  too  easy 
To  learn  that  he  is  married  to  Orabile. 
And  you,  did  you  nut  beat  this  jester  but 
For  fear  of  idle  talk'.' 

Ostasio. 

Yes,  you  are  right, 
Ser  Toldo;  we  must  put  an  end  to  this. 
My  father  is  returning  from  Valdoppio 
This  very  night;  we  will  have  all  prepared 
And  ready  for  to-morrow. 

Ser  Toldo. 

Very  good, 
Messer  Ostasio. 

Ostasio. 
Yet  .  .  .  What  will  come  of  it? 


S2  FRANCESCA  T>A  RIMINI. 

Ser  Toldo. 
If  you  do  all,  as  all  this  should  be  done, 
With  secrecy  and  prudence,  Madonna  Fraucesca 
Will  find  out  nothing  till  at  liimiuo, 
She  wakes,  the  morning  after 
Her  wedding  day,  and  sees 
Beside  her  .  .  . 

OSTASIO. 

Ah,  it  is  like  some  vile  revenge  1 

Ser  Toldo. 
And  sees  beside  her  rise 
Gianciotto. 

OSTASIO. 

O,  she  is  so  beautiful  ! 
Aud  we  avenge  ourselves  ui^on  her  beauty. 
Almost  as  if  she  wronged  our  house  and  us 
In  coming  to  be  born 

Here  like  a  flower  in  the  midst  of  so  much  iron. 
We  are  giving  her  to  the  lame  Malatesta 
For  the  sake  of  that  poor  hundred  infantry  ! 
But  is  she  not  herself 

Worth  more  than  all  the  lordship  of  Romagua  ? 
False  notary,  how  did  you  poison  first 
My  father's  mind  ?     All  this 
Is  your  base  bargaining.     I  will  not  have  it. 
Do  you  understand  ? 

Ser  Toldo. 

Why,  what  tarantula  bites  you, 
Messer  Ostasio  ? 
Surely  you  will  not  find 
A  better  match  to  make  in  all  Romagna  ? 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  33 

OSTASIO. 

The  Malatesti  ?    Who  then  after  all 

Are  these  Yerrucchio  folk  ?    By  this  alliance 

Shall  we  have  got  Ceseua, 

Cervia,  Faenza,  Forli,  Civitella, 

Half  of  Roraagna? 

A  hundred  uifantry  ! 

To  hunt  the  Traversara  region,  O 

The  mighty  succonr  ! 

And  Dovadella,  and  Zello,  and  Montaguto 

Ah-eady  in  our  power  perhaps.     Gianciotto  I 

But  who  is  he,  Gianciotto  ?     When  I  think 

How  that  Traversarian  widow, 

That  ancient  scabby  bitch,  has  mated  with 

(After  the  nephew  of  the  Pope)  the  son 

Of  Andrea,  the  King  of  Hungary.  .  .  . 

Ser  Toi.do. 
What  is  the  King  of  Hungary  to  you  ? 

OSTASIO. 

But  here  are  we,  with  this 

Puglian  clodhopper, 

This  Guglielmetto  that  now  vaunts  himself 

As  the  legitimate  lieir 

Of  I'aolo  Traversari, 

Anil  harries  us;  and  we  shall  never  break  him 

With  this  mcie  hundred  infantry,  and  ho 

Will  surely  come  again  with  help  from  Foglia. 

Wliat  shall  we  hope  for  then 

Fruni  Malatesta  ? 

Sek  Tomjo. 
Malatesta  is  the  chief  of  all  the  Guelphs 
Now  in  Romagna,  and  the  chief  defender 


34  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Of  the  Church,  and  he  has  the  favour  of  the 

Pope, 
And  he  was  made  the  governor  of  Florence 
Under  King  Charles,  and  whosoever  seeks 
A  captain.  .  .  . 

OSTASIO. 

Notary. 
Guido  di  Montefeltro  shattered  him, 
Once,  at  the  bridge  of  San  Pi-ocolo.     Notary, 
Guglielmino  de'  Pazzi  drove  him  back 
At  Reversano,  and  has  made  him  since 
Give  up  the  fortress  of  Cesena. 
Seb  Toldo. 

Ay, 
But  the  victory  at  Colle  di  Valdelsa 
Against  the  .Sienese, 

The  time  he  slaughtered  Provenzan  Salvani? 
But  when  he  made  Count  Guido  prisoner 
On   the   borders  of   Ancona,  and   brought  him 

back, 
Him  and  his  men,  to  Rimino?    But  when 
He  intercejjted 
The  famous  secret  letters 
From  the  Emperor  Baldwin  to  King  Manfred? 

Come, 
In  truth  it  seems  to  me, 
Messer  Ostasio, 
Your  memory  is  then  no  longer  Guelph. 

Ostasio. 
If  the  Devil  comes  to  me  and  lends  me  a  hand 
That  I  may  root  and  ruin  the  evil  race 
Of  the  slave  Pasquetta  and  the  Puglian  hag, 
I  am  for  the  Devil,  notary. 


FRANCESCA  DA   III  MINI.  35 

Ser  Toldo. 
Ah,  ah!  I  guessed  the  trutli: 
It  is  the  tarantula  of  Puglia  bites  you. 

OSTASIO. 

The  Emperor  Frederick  (God,  for  this  thing 
Grant  him  a  cup  of  water  down  in  hell! ) 
Had  utterly  destroyed  the  seed  of  them, 
When  he  hurled  Aica  Traversari  headlong 
Into  the  fiery  furnace. 

And  lo,  one  day  there  comes  into  Ravenna 
A  certain  slave,  Pasquetta,  with  her  sweetheart, 
And  tells  you:  "  I  am  Aica," 
And  comes  on  one  Filippo,  an  Archbishop, 
And  he  affirms  her  the  legitimate  heir, 
And  with  the  taking  over  of  the  Dukedom 
Makes  her  the  lady  mistress!     And  from  that 
The  filthy  vagabond  of  a  husband  holds 
Tlie  headship  of  the  very  Ghibelline  party 
Against  the  house  of  Polenta!    O  Ser  Toldo, 
Now  we  are  doing  deeds  of  chivalry 
Against  Guglielmo  Francisio,  bastard 
Of  shepherd-folk.     Do  you  understand? 
Sku  Toi-do. 

But  you, 
Have  you  not  driven  him  out  of  Ravenna? 

OsTASIO. 

With  the  infantry  of  Gianciotto  Malatesta? 

Skii  Toi.do. 
You  arc  ungrateful,  Messer  Ostasio. 
Gianciotto  Malatesta  in  two  days 
IJroke  all  tlu!  bars  and  gratings  in  tlic  streets; 
liutwecn  Sant'  Agata  and  I'orta  San  Mamante, 


j  PBANCESCA  DA  BIMINl. 

He  massacred  the  gang 

Of  the  Anastagi; 

Between  San  Simoue  and  Porta  San  Vittore 

His  heavy  cross-bolts  cleared 

The  whole  pack  in  a  breath. 

Nor  is  he  ever  one  to  spare  himself, 

But  proved  his  courage, 

There,  with  a  buckler  bracdd  about  his  arm, 

A  rapier  in  his  hand  ; 

And  always  in  the  crush 

Set  on  his  priceless  horse, 

A  raging  beast  that  gave  his  enemies 

What  travail  more  he  could,  so  that  he  had 

Always  some  dozen  more  or  less  of  men 

Under  his  horse's  hoof;  and  Stefano 

Sibaldo,  that  stood  by. 

Swears,  when  the  Laniester  does 

A  feat  of  arms,  it  is  beautiful  to  see  him; 

He  is  a  master  in  the  art  of  war ! 

OSTASIO. 

0  Ser  Toldo,  you  had  certainly  your  share 

Of  the  booty!    You  will  take  away  their  skill 
From   those  who   sang  the  song  of   the  twelve 

barons 
Of  Charlemagne, 

Lord  of  the  flowing  beard.     How  much,  I  pray, 
Came  to  your  share? 

Ser  Toldo. 

The  tarantula  of  Puglia 
Is  a  certain  sort  of  spider, 
That  brings  all  kinds  of  luck  to  those  he  bites. 

1  am  not  now,  alas, 

All  that  I  have  been  once ! 


FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  37 

But  the  Malatesti  always  have  been  ill 
Bearers  of  shame,  and  now  Gianciotto  knows 
The  way  by  which  one  gets  inside  the  walls 
Here  at  Ravenna.  .  .  .   But  you  might  give  your 

sister, 
No  doubt,  to  the  Prince  Royal  of  Salerno, 
Or  to  the  Doge  of  Venice. 

OSTASIO 

[absorbed]. 

Ah!  is  she 
Not  worth  a  kingdom?     How  beautiful  she  isl 
There  never  was  a  sword  that  went  so  straight 
As  her  eyes  go,  if  they  but  look  at  you. 
Yesterday  she  was  saying:  "  Who  is  it 
You  give  me  to?  "     When  she  walks,  and  her 

hair 
Falls  all  about  her  to  her  waist,  and  down 
To  her  strong  knees  (she  is  strong,  though  very 

pale) 
And  her  head  sways  a  little,  she  gives  forth  joy 
Like  flags  that  wave  in  the  wind 
When  one  sets  forth  against  a  mighty  city 
In  polished  aimour.     Then 
She  seems  as  if  she  held 
The  eagle  of  Polenta 

Fast  in  her  fist,  like  a  trained  hawk,  to  fling  him 
Forth  to  tlie  prey.     Yesterday  she  was  saying: 
"  Who  is  it  you  give  me  to?  " 
Why  should  I  see  her  die? 

Sku  Toi.do. 
Now  you  might  give  your  sister 
To  tlie  Fving  of  Hungary 
Or  better,  to  the  Paleologuo. 


38  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

OSTASIA. 

Be  silent, 

Ser  Toldo,  for  to-day 
I  am  uot  patieut. 

The  Voice  of  Banning. 
Ostasio!    Ostasiol 

OSTASIO. 

By  God!  here  is  Bannino,  here  is  the  bastard 
That  pauts  and  lolls  his  tongue. 
I  knew  it. 

Bannino  appears  at  the  door  at  the  back  of  the 
stage,  pantincj  and  dishevelled,  like  a  fugitive, 
with  ASPINELLO,  Arsendi,  Viviano  de' 
Vivii,  and  Bertkando  Luro,  who  are  bleeding 
and  covered  loith  dust. 

Banning. 
Ostasio! 
The  men  of  Forli  have  attacked  the  waggons 
Of  salt,  by  Cervia; 

They   have  put  to  flight  the  convoy  and  over- 
turned 
The  waggons. 

OSTASIG 
[Shouting]. 
Ah,  I  knew  it! 
But  they  have  not  cut  your  throat? 

ASPINELLO. 

The  Ghibellines  that  were  exiled  from  Bologna. 
With  tliose  too  of  Faenza  and  Forli 


FBANCESCA  DA    EIMINI.  39 

Gather  iu  companies  over  all  the  laud 
And  are  laying  all  things   waste  with  fire  and 
sword. 

OSTASIO. 
Jesu  our  Lord,  good  tidings  for  your  Vicar! 

ViVIANO. 

And  they  have  burned  Monte  Vecchio,  Valcapra, 
Piauetto.     They   have    laid  waste  Strabatanza 

and  Biserno 
For  Lizio  da  Valbona, 
They  have  laid  waste,  for  the  Count 
Ugo  da  Cerfugnano, 
The  country  of  Rontana  and  of  Quarmento. 

OSTASIO. 

God  of  mercy,  still  good  tidings, 

Good  tidings  to  thy  servants,  and  good  tidings! 

Bektkando. 
Guido  di  Montcfeltro 
Takes  horse  to  Calboli 
With  engines,  and  balistas; 
And  he  will  have  the  castle. 

OSTASIO. 

More!  more! 

Christ  Jesus,  to  thy  praise  always  1 

ViVIANO. 

Tlicro  was  Scarpctta 

Of  the  Ordelafli  with  the  Forli  folk. 

Bannino. 
They   have   put  to  flight  the  convoy  and  over- 
turned 
The  waggons  ami  taken  cattle 


40  FRANCESCA  BA   RIMINI. 

And  horses,  and  have  killed 

Malvicino  da  Lozza 

And  many  soldiers,  and  made  prisoner 

Paj^ano  Coffa;  and  the  others  in  disorder 

Have  fled  iu  search  of  safety  towards  the  sea. 

OSTASIO. 

And  yon,  you  towards  the  land. 

As  fast  as  horse  could  carry  you.    I  knew  it 

I  knew  it  well. 

Where  did  you  leave  your  sword? 

And  you  have  thrown  away  your  helmet  too. 

Save  himself  he  who  can!    That  is  your  cry. 

Banning. 
My  sword?     I  broke  my  sword 
In  the  very  rage  of  striking  blows  with  it. 
There  were  three  hundred,  maybe  four,  against 

us. 
Aspinello,  Bertrando, 
Say,  both  of  you,  and  you 
Viviano,  say  if  I  did  well  or  no. 
I  had  against  me  more  than  twenty  men 
That  would  have  taken  me;  and  I  carved  my 

life 
With  my  own  hand  out  of  their  flesh  and  bone. 
Say,  all  of  you ! 

OSTASIO. 

You  see 
They  cannot  answer  for  you;  they  are  tasked 
To  stanch  the  flowing  of  their  blood,  and  wipe 
The  dust  away  that  clings  about  their  faces. 
But  you   are  clean,   you;    cuirass,   sleeves,  all 
clean, 


FEANCESCA  DA    RIMINI.  41 

Spotless.    Your  euemies 

Had  got  no  veins  then  in  their  bodies?    You 

Have  not  a  scratch  upon  your  whited  face, 

0  mighty  man  of  valour  in  your  words! 

[The  Thkee    Soldiers,    taking  their  harness 
off  their  backs,  and  wipinrj  it,  move  away.] 

Banning 
Ostasio!  Ostasio!  Enough! 

OSTASIO. 

1  knevy^  it  well, 

I  had  but  laughter  when 

My  father  picked  you  out 

To  lead  the  waggon  safely  in.     I  said: 

"  May  the  good  Bishop  of  Cervia 

Preserve  him  with  his  crozier!     In  Ravenna 

'Tis  very  certain  we  shall  have  no  salt." 

Did  I  say  wrong?    Go,  go,  Bannino,  go 

And  mince  the  lungs  of  hares  into  a  dish 

For  sparrow-hawks. 

Banning. 
You  should  be  silent,  you. 
While  I  was  in  the  fray, 
Stayed  safe  at  home,  plotting  with  notaries. 

Ostasio. 
O  lord  and  leader  of  harlots,  you  shall  know 
That  if  the  men  of  Forli  did  not  catch  you. 
Because  you  were  too  nimble, 
'Tis  I  will  catch  you. 

Banning. 
What?  with  treachery, 
After  your  fashion? 


42  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

OstaSio. 
I  will  do  it  so  that  you, 
This  time  at  least,  do  not  go  whimpering  home 
To  tell  my  father. 

Ser  Toldo. 

Peace!  peace! 

Banning. 

I  will  tell  him 
Something  I  know,  this  time. 

OSTASIO. 

What  do  you  know? 
Banning. 
You  know  the  thing  I  mean. 
Ser  Toldo. 
Peace,  peace,  O  peace! 
Be  brothers! 

OSTASIO. 

He  is  from  another  nest. 
Ser  Toldo. 
Messer  Ostasio,  he  is  but  a  boy. 

OSTASIO. 

Speak  then,  if  you  know  how  to  wound  a  man 
At  any  rate  with  your  tongue. 
Banning. 
Tou  know  the  thing 
I  mean.     I  keep  my  counsel, 
Ostasio. 

Ng,  pour  out 
Tour  gall,  that  is  now  painted  in  your  face, 
Or  I  will  wring  you  up  as  if  I  wrung 
A  wet  rag  out. 


FBAXCESCA  DA   EIMINI.  43 

Baxxino. 
Ostasio, 
I  am  not  so  skilled  in  pouring  out  my  gall 
As  you  your  wine 
With  an  unshaken  hand. 

Ostasio. 
What  wine? 

Bannixo, 
Your  wine,  pure  wine,  pure  wine,  I  mean. 
Ostasio. 
Listen  to  me,  bastard ! 

Baxnino. 
Our  good  old  father 
Fell  sick  one  day.     With  what  a  tenderness 
You  watched  about  him,  O  you  best  of  sons! 
Do  you   know  now?  do  you  know?    I   know  a 

thing 
That  you  too  know. 
God  dry  your  right  hand  up! 

Ostasio. 
Ah,  what  a  woman's  lie  is  that!     O  bastard, 
Your  day  has  come  at  last; 
No  use  in  iiying  from  the  enemy! 

[lie  draws  Ids  sword  and  rushes  upou  Baxxino, 
who  leaps  aside  and  avoids  the  blow.  He  is 
about  tofollovj  him,  when  Skb  Toldo  tries 
to  draw  him  hack.] 

Skk  Toldo. 
Messer  Ostasio,  wliat  is  it  you  would  do? 
Let  him  alone!     Lot  liim  alone!     He  is 
Your  brotber.     Wliat  would  you  do  to  him? 
\The  Si.avk  comes  out  on  the  lo(jfjia  and  vnitchcs.] 


44  FRANCESCA  DA   BIMINI. 

Banning 

[terrified]. 
O  father, 

0  father,  help !  Francesca,  O  sister,  help ! 

No!  you  will  kill  me.     Wretch!     Wretch!     No, 

no,  pardon, 
Ostasio!    No,  I  will  not  tell  .  .  . 
[Seeing  the  point  at  his  throat,  he  kneels  down.] 

The  poison 
Was  not  yours. 
[The  Three  Soldiers,  unarmed,  have  come  back.] 
No,  I  will  not  tell!    O  pai'don! 
[Ostasio  wounds  him  in  the  cheek.     He  swoons.] 

Ostasio. 
Nothing,  nothing,  it  is  nothing. 

[He  leans  over  and  looks  at  him.] 
It  is  nothing; 
He  has  fainted;  T  have  only  pricked  the  skin; 
Not  in  a  bad  place,  no;  and  not  in  anger. 

1  pricked  him  just  a  little 

That  he  might  learn  not  to  fear  naked  steel. 
That  he  might  bear  him  better  in  the  fray 
And  not  lose  sword  and  helmet 
When  he  turns  tail  next  on  the  Ghibelline. 

[The  Three  Soldiers  lift  Banning.] 
Take  him  away  to  Maestro  Gabbadeo, 
And  let  his  wounds  be  staunched 
With  salt  out  of  the  Cervia  salt-mines. 

[He  watches  the  wounded  man  as  he  is  borne 
away,  then  closes  the  great  door  with  a  clang. 
The  Slave  silently  retires  from  the  loggia.] 
Come, 
Ser  Toldo,  let  us  go. 


FRANCESCA  DA    RIMINI.  45 

Sek  Toldo. 

What  will  your  father 
Say  when  he  comes? 

OSTASIO. 

My  father 
Is  much  too  kiud  to  this  young  bastardling. 

[He  looks  gloomily  on  the  ground.] 
He  is  from  another  nest,  and  he  was  hatched 
Not  by  the  eagle,  no,  but  by  a  jay. 
Did  you  not  hear  what  he  was  stuttering? 
About  a  wine,  a  wine  .  .  .  [lie  pauses  grimly.  \ 
It  was  a  stock 

Suborned  by  some  one  of  the  Anastagi. 
Christ  guard   my   father  and   ray   house   from 
traitors ! 

Seb  Toldo. 
And  Madonna  Francesca  then? 

OSTASIO. 

Yes,  we  will  give  her 
To  the  Malatesta. 

Ser  Toldo. 
May  God  prosper  itl 

OSTASIO. 

The  vengeances  that  wait  for  us  are  great 
And   many,  and   S(mie   tears   shall  How   in  the 

world. 
Please  God,  more  bitter  than  the  salt  in  all 
The  salt-mines  of  tliis  Cervia.     Come  with  me, 
Ser  Toldo,  Paolo  Malatesta  waits. 

[Tltry  go  out.] 


46  FBANCESCA  DA   BIMINI. 

The  Slave  reappears,  carrying  a  bucket  and  a 
sponge.  She  comes  doion  the  stairs  in  silence, 
barefooted.  She  looks  at  the  bloodstains  on  the 
pavement  and  goes  doion  on  her  knees  to  wash 
them  up.  From  the  rooms  above  is  heard  the 
song  of  the  Women. 

Chobus  of  Women. 

Ah  me,  the  sorrow  of  heart 

In  the  heart  that  loves  too  well.     Ah  inel 

Ah  me,  if  the  heart  could  tell 

Hoiv  love  in  the  heart  is  aflame.    Ah  mel 

[Francesca  ant?  Samaritana  are  seen  coming 
out  on  the  loggia  side  by  side,  with  their  arms 
about  each  other.  The  chorus  of  Women 
follows  them,  carrying  distaffs  of  different 
colours;  but  pauses  on  the  lighted  loggia, 
standing  as  in  a  singing  gallery,  while  the 
two  sisters  go  down  the  stairs  to  the  level  of 
the  garden.  The  slave,  having  washed  out 
the  stains,  hurriedly  pours  the  bloodstained 
water  in  her  bucket  into  the  sarcophagus 
among  the  Howers.] 

Francesca 

\pausing  on  the  stairs]. 
It  is  love  makes  them  sing! 

[She  throios  back  her  head  a  little,  as  if  abandon- 
ing herself  to  the  breath  of  the  melody,  light 
and  palpitating.] 

Women. 
Ah  me,  the  sorrow  and  shame, 
In  the  sad  heart  on  the  morrow    Ah  me! 


FEANCESCA  DA   RUHNI.  47 

Francesca. 
They  are  intoxicated  with  these  odours. 
Do  you  not  liear  them?    With  a  sighing  fall 
Sadly  they  sing 
The  things  of  perfect  joy. 

[She  toithdrmcs  her  arm  from  her  sister^s  waist, 
and  morcsi  a  little  away,  pausliuj  lohile  the 
other  takes  another  step  downward.] 
Women. 
Ah  me,  the  hitter  sorrow. 
All  life  long.     Ah  me  ! 

Francesca. 
Like  I'unning  water 

That  goes  and  goes,  and  the  eye  sees  it  not, 
So  is  ruy  soul. 

Samaritana 
With  a  sudden  alarm,  cVoiyimj  closer  to  her  sister]. 

Francesca, 
Where  are  you  going,  who  is  taking  you? 

Francesca. 
Ah,  you  awaken  nie. 

[The  song  pauses.  The  Women  trim  their  backs, 
looking  down  into  the  other  court.  They 
seem  to  be  on  the  xoatch.  The  twi-Jtorned 
headdresses  and  the  tall  distaffs  shine  in  the 
sun,  and  noio  and  then  there  is  a  whispering 
and  rustling  of  lips  and  garments  in  the  clear 
sunlight.] 

Samaritana, 

O,  sister,  sister, 
Listen  to  me:  stay  with  me  still  I    O  stay 
With  me!  we  wcr(i  horn  here, 
Do  not  forsake;  me,  do  not  go  away, 


48  FEANCESCA  DA  BIMINL 

Let  nie  still  keep  my  bed 

Beside  your  bed,  and  let  me  still  at  night 

Feel  yon  beside  me, 

Francesca. 
He  has  come. 

Samakitana. 
Who?    Who  has  come 
To  take  you  from  me? 

Francesca. 

Sister,  he  has  come. 
Samabitana. 
He  has  no  name,  he  has  no  countenance, 
And  we  have  never  seen  him. 
Francesca. 

It  may  be 
That  I  have  seen  him. 

Samaritan  A. 
I  have  never  been  apart 
From  you,  and  from  your  breath ; 
My  life  has  never  seen  but  with  your  eyes; 
O,  where  can  you  have  seen  him,  and  not  I 
Seen  him  as  well? 

Francesca. 
Where  you 
Can  never  come,  sweetheart,  in  a  far  place 
And  in  a  lonely  place 
Where  a  great  flame  of  fire 
Burns,  and  none  feed  that  flame. 

Samaritana. 
You  speak  to  me  in  riddles, 
And  there  is  like  a  veil  over  your  face. 
Ah,  and  it  seems  as  if  you  had  gone  away, 


FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  49 

And  from  far  off 

Turned  and  looked  back;  and  your  voice  sounds 

to  me 
As  out  of  a  great  wind. 

Francesca. 

Peace,  peace,  dear  soul, 
My  little  dove.     Why  are  you  troubled?    Peace; 
You  also,  and  ere  long. 
Shall  see  your  day  of  days, 
And  leave  our  nest  as  I  have  left  it;  then 
Your  little  bed  shall  stand 
Empty  beside  ray  bed;  and  I  no  more 
Shall  hear  through  dreams  at  dawn 
Your  little  naked  feet  run  to  the  window. 
And  no  more  see  you,  white  and  barefooted. 
Run  to  the  window,  O  mj'  little  dove, 
And  no  more  hear  you  say  to  me:  "Francesca, 
Francesca,  now  the  morninji-star  is  born, 
And  it  has  chased  away  the  Pleiades." 

Samaritan  A. 
So  we  will  live,  ah  me. 
So  we  will  live  forever; 
And  time  shall  flee  away, 
Flee  away  always ! 

Francesca. 
And  you  will  no  more  say  to  me  at  mora: 
"What  was  it  in  your  bed  that  made  it  creak 
Like  reeds  in  the  wind?"     Nor  shall  I  answer 

you: 
"  I  turned  about  to  sleep, 
To  sleep  anrj  dream,  and  saw. 
As  I  was  sleei)iii{?,  in  the  dream  I  dreamed.  .  ." 


50  FEANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Ah,  I  sliall  no  more  tell  yoii  what  is  seen 
lu  dreams.     And  we  will  die. 
So  we  will  die  forever; 
And  time  shall  flee  away, 
Flee  away  always ! 

Samaritan  A. 
O  Francesca,  O  Francesca,  you  hurt  my  heart, 
And  see,  Francesca, 
You  make  me  tremble  all  over. 
Francesca. 

Little  one,  peace, 
Peace,  be  at  rest. 

Sam  ABIT  AN  A. 

You  told  me  of  the  dream 
You  dreamed  last  night,  and  while 
You  si3oke  I  seemed  to  hear 
A  sound  of  voices  calling  out  in  anger, 
And  then  a  cry,  and  then 

The  sound  of  a  door  shutting;  and  then  silence. 
You  did  not  finish  telling  me  your  dream, 
For  then 

The  women  began  singing,  and  you  stopped; 
And  you  have  left  my  heart  in  pain  for  you. 
Whom  is  it  that  our  father  gives  you  to? 

Francesca. 
Sister,  do  you  remember  how  one  day 
In  August  we  were  on  the  tower  together? 
We  saw  great  clouds  rise  up  out  of  the  sea. 
Great  clouds  heavy  with  storm. 
And  there  was  a  hot  wind  that  gave  one  thirst; 
And  all  the  weight  of  the  great  heavy  sky 
Weighed  over  on  our  heads;  and  we  saw  all 


FRANCi:SCA  DA   EUHNI.  51 

Tlie  forest  round  about,  down  to  the  sliore 

Of  Chiassi,  turn  to  blackness,  like  the  sea; 

And  we  saw  birds  flying  in  companies 

Before  the  murnnirs  growing  on  the  wind. 

Do  you  remember?    We  were  on  the  tower; 

And  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  there  was  dead 

Silence.     The  wind  was  silent,  and  I  heard 

Only  the  beating  of  your  little  heart; 

And  then  a  hammer  beat, 

As  by  the  roadside  some  flushed  plunderer, 

Hot  for  more  plunder,  bent 

Shoeing  his  horse  in  haste. 

The  forest  was  as  silent  as  the  shadow 

Over  the  tombs ; 

Ravenna,  dusk  and  hollow  as  a  city 

Sacked  by  the  enemy,  at  nightfall.     We, 

We  two,  under  that  cloud 

(Do  you  remember?)  felt  as  if  death  came 

Nearer,  yet  moved  no  eyelid,  but  stood  there, 

Waiting  the  thunder. 

[She  turns  to  the  Slave,  who  stands  motionless 
beside  the  sarcojihayus.] 

O  Smaragdi,  who. 
Who  was  it,  in  the  song  among  your  people, 
That  stood,  shoeing  his  horse  under  the  moon, 
And  when  his  mother  spoke  to  him,  and  said: 
"  My  son,  I  pray  you  take  not  in  your  course 
The  sister  when  you  take  the  brother,  nor 
Lovers  that  love  each  other  with  true  love," 
Answered  her  sourly  back: 
"  If  three  1  find,  three  I  take;  if  I  And 
Two,  1  take  one;  and  if  I  find  but  one, 
I  take  the  one  I  find  "  ? 
What  was  the  name  they  gave  liim  in  your  land? 


52  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Slave. 
All  evil  name 
It  is  not  good  fox*  any  man  to  name. 

Francesca. 
Tell  me,  what  will  you  do  without  me  here, 
Smaragdi?    What  is  there  that  I  can  leave  you 
When  I  go  hence? 

Slave, 

Three  cups  of  bitterness 
Leave  me: 

The  first  that  I  may  drink  at  early  morning; 
The  second,  on  the  stroke 
Of  mid-day;  and  the  third, 
Soon  after  vespers. 

Francesca. 

No,  I  will  not  leave 
Three  cups  of  bitterness,  but  you  shall  come 
W^ith  me,  Smaragdi,  to  the  city  of  Rimino, 
And  you  shall  be  with  me,  and  we  will  have 
A  window  opening  upon  the  sea. 
And  I  will  tell  you  over  all  my  dreams, 
Because  you  see  unveiled 
The  face  of  sorrow  and  the  face  of  joy; 
And  I  will  speak  to  you  of  that  most  sweet 
Sister,  my  little  dove; 
And  you  will  stand,  and,  looking  through  the 

window, 
See  all  the  skiffs  and  galleys  on  the  sea. 
And  you  will  sing:  "  My  galley  of  Barbary, 
What  is  the  port  you  make  for,  and  the  shore 
Where  you  would   anchor?      Cyprus  I  would 

make  for. 
And  at  Limisso  anchor, 


FRANCESCA  BA   RIMINI.  53 

And  land  my  sailors  for  a  kiss,  my  captain, 
For  love!"     Come  now,  must  I  not  take  you 

with  me 
To  Kimino,  Smaragdi? 

Slave. 

To  go  with  you 
It  were  a  happiness  to  tread  on  thorns. 
And  to  pass  through  the  flames 
To  be  with  you. 
You  are  the  heaveu  with  stars, 
The  sea  with  waves. 

Fraxcesca. 
The  sea  with  waves! 

But  tell  me,  what  are  you  doing  with  the  bucket, 
Smaragdi? 

Slave. 

I  have  watered 
The  roses. 

Francesca. 
Why  then  have  you  watered  them 
Out  of  their  season?    Why?    Samaritana 
Will  be  angry  with  you.     She 
Gives  water  to  the  roses 

As  soon  as  the  bell  sounds  for  vespers.     Come, 
What  do  you  say,  Samaritana? 
Samaritana. 

I 
Would  let  them  die,  because, 
Francesca,  you  are  going  away  from  us. 

Francesca. 
O  beautiful,  and  perchance 
A  holy  thing,  being  born  in  this  most  ancient 


54  FBANCESCA  I)A  RIMINt. 

Sarcophagus  that  was  the  sepulchre 
Perchauce  of  some  great  martyr  or  of  some 
Glorious  virgin ! 
[She  walks  round  the  sarcophagus,  touching  with 
her  fingers  the  carvings  on  the  four  sides.] 
The  Kedeemer  treads 
Under  his  feet  the  lion  and  the  snake; 
Mary  saluted  by  Elizabeth; 
Our  Lady,  and  the  angel  bids  "  All  hail!" 
The  stags  are  drinking  at  the  running  brook. 
[<S7te  stretches  out  her  artiis  Urwards  the  rose-tree.] 
And  now  the  blood  of  martyrdom  reflowers 
In  purple  and  in  lire.     Behold,  behold, 
Sister,  the  ardent  flame, 
Behold  the  roses  that  are  full  of  fire! 
Here  did  our  own  hands  plant  them,  on  a  day, 
It  was  October,  on  a  day  of  battle 
That  crimsoned  the  red  eagle  of  Polenta. 
Do  you  remember?  How  the  trumpets  sounded 
From  Porta  Gaza  to  the  Torre  Zancana, 
As  the  new  flag  unfurled, 
The  flag  our  father 

Had  bid  us  make  for  him  with  forty  yards 
Of  crimson  cloth:  it  was  a  mighty  flag-pole. 
Do  you  remember? 

And  we  had  broidered  round  about  the  hem 
A  border  fringe  of  gold. 
It  conquered!    And  from  then 
We  held  these  roses 

To  be  a  blessed  thing,  we  held  them  spotless 
And  undefiled  as  a  white  viiginal  robe; 
And  there  was  never  plucked 
One  of  these  roses,  and  three  springtides  through 


FItAXCESCA  DA   nnflXI.  55 

They  blossomed  into  flower  and  fell  to  dust 
In  the  sarcophagus. 

But  never  have  they  flowered  until  this  May, 
Such  floods,  such  floods  of  them. 
There  are  a  hundred.     Look! 
They  burn  me  if  I  touch  them. 
The  virojins  vowed  to  Saint  Apollinaris 
Burn  not  with  such  an  ardour  in  their  heaven 
Of  gold.     Samaritana, 
Samaritana,  which  of  them  say  you 
Found  here  a  sepulchre 
After  her  glorious  martyrdom?    O,  which 
Of  these  was  sepulchred 
Here,  tell  me,  here,  after  her  martyrdom? 
Look,  look:  it  is  the  miracle  of  the  blood! 
Samakitana 
[FHghtened,  draiciwj  her  towards  herself]. 
Sister,  what  is  it,  sister? 
You  speak  as  if  you  raved. 
What  is  it?    Speak ! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

[From  the  loggia.]  Madonna  Francesca! 

Adonella. 

Madonna 
Francesca ! 

FUANCESCA. 

Who  calls  for  mo? 

AOONKM-A. 

Come  up  here!    O  come  quick! 

A  I, I) A. 
Here,  here.  Madonna  Fiancesca,  come  up  here 
And  .see! 


56  FEANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Adonella. 
Come  quickly.     It  is  your  betrothed 
Who  is  passiug. 

BlANCOnOKE. 

He  is  passing  through  the  court, 
He  is  with  your  brother,  Messer  Ostasio; 
And  here  too  is  Ser  Toldo  Berardengo, 
The  notary,  he  is  with  them. 

Alda. 
Here,    here!      Madonna    Francesca,  come    up 

quickly. 
He  is  there,  he  is  there! 

[Francesca  goes  hastily  up  the  stairs.  Sama- 
RiTANA  is  about  tofollow  her,  but  stops, 
overcome.] 

Adonella. 
[Pointing  him  out  to  Francesca  who  leans  over 
to  look.] 
See,  there  is  he  who  comes 
To  be  your  husband. 

Garsenda. 

O  most  happy  lady, 
Most  happy  lady. 

He  is  the  fairest  knight  in  all  the  world, 
In  very  truth.     See  now 

How  his  hair  falls,  and  waves  about  his  shoulders 
In  the  new  way,  the  Angevin  way! 

Alda. 

And  how 
Well  made  he  is,  a  proper  man,  well  girded 
About  the  surcoat  with  the  hanging  sleeves 
That  almost  touch  the  ground. 


FRANCE SC A  DA  RIMINI.  57 

Alda. 
And  what  a  splendid  clasp  and  what  au  aglet! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

And  tall!    And  slender!    And  a  royal  can*iage! 

Adonella. 
And  how  his  teeth  are  white ! 
He  smiled  a  little,  and  I  saw  them  glitter. 
Did  you  not  see,  did  you 
Not  see? 

Gabsenda. 
O,  happy,  happy  shall  sh«  be 
That  kisses  him  on  the  mouth! 


Fkancesca. 


Be  silent. 


Alda. 
He  has  gone.     He  is  passing  now 
Under  the  portico. 

[r/<e  Slave  opens  the  grating,  closes  it  furtively 
behind  her,  and  disappears  into  the  garden.] 

Fkancesca. 

Be  silent,  ba  silent  I 

[She  tur7is,  covering  her  face  with  both  her  hands; 
when  she  withdraws  them,  her  face  appears 
transfigured.  She  goes  down  the  Rrst  stairs 
slowly,  then  with  a  sudden  rapiaiU/  throws 
herself  into  the  arms  of  Iter  sister,  wJw  awaU« 
her  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.] 

A  LTICHIARA. 

Messer  Ostasio  is  coming  back  alone. 


58  FUAXCEsSCA  DA  RIMINI. 

BlANCOFlOKE. 

The  slave,  where  is  she  goiug  ?    She  is  running 
Down  through  the  garden. 

Garsenda. 

Smaragdi  runs  and  runs 
Like  a  hound  unleashed.    Where  is  she  going? 
Adonella. 

Sing 
Together,  sing  the  song  of  the  fair  Isotta: 
"Odate,  O  leafy  date!  ..." 

[The  loomenform  into  a  circle  on  the  loggia.] 
CuoBus  OF  Women. 

O  date,  0  leafy  date, 
O  love,  O  lovely  love. 
What  loilt  thou  do  to  me? 
[Francesca,  held  close  in  her  sister's  arms,  sud- 
denly begins  to  loeep.     The  chorus  breaks  off. 
The  Women  speak  together  in  low  voices.\ 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Madonna  weeps. 

Adonella. 

She  weeps ! 

Alda. 

Why  does  she  weep? 
Altichiara. 
She  weeps  because  her  heart  is  sick  with  joy. 

Garsenda. 

Straight  to  the  heart 

He  wounded  her.     If  she  is  beautiful, 

He  is  beautiful,  the  Malatesta! 


FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  59 

Adonella. 

Born 
One  for  the  other 
Under  one  star. 

Garsenda. 
O  happy  he  and  she ! 

Alda. 
Long  may  he  live  who  crowns 
Their  heads  with  garlands! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

First  rain  of  the  season 
To  the  corn  brings  increasej 
And  the  first  tears  of  love 
To  the  lover  bring  peace. 

Adonella. 
She  smiles,  she  smiles 
Now. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

And  her  tears 
Laugh  like  the  hoar-frost. 

Garsenda. 
Go,  warm  the  bath, 
Get  the  combs  ready. 

]The  Women  scatter  over  the  loggia,  with  their 
garments  fluttering,  nimble  as  birds  on  the 
bough,  while  the  tall  staves  of  their  distaffs 
pass  and  repass,  shaken  like  torches  against 
the  blue  strip  of  the  sky.  Some  go  into  the 
rooms  and  come  out  again.  Oihers  stand 
as  if  watching.      And  they  talk  in  subdued 


60  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

voices  and  they  move  without  sound  of  foot- 
steps. ] 

BlAIfCOFIOKE. 

These  smelling-bottles 

Of  bright  new  silver 

We  have  to  fill 

"With  water  of  orange  flower  and  water  of  roses. 

Alda. 
We  have  to  fill 
Four  mighty  coffers 
With  sheets  of  linen  fringed  with  silken  lace. 

Altichiaka. 
And  stores  of  pillows 
We  have  wrought  for  a  marvel. 
We  have  wrought  so  many 
That  never  in  dreams  the  people  of  Eimino 
Have  seen  such  store ! 

Adonella. 
Ah,  we  have  much  to  be  doing! 

Garsenda. 
And  we  must  fold  the  quilts 
Of  cloth  of  linen 
And  all  the  embroidered  coverlets  of  gold. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

And  count  the  nets  and  ribbons  for  the  hair 
And  all  the  girdles  and  the  belts  of  gold. 

Adonella. 
We  have  much  to  be  doing! 

Garsenda. 
I  take  my  oath 
A  better  dowry  brings  to  Malatesta 


FliANCESCA  DA    EIJtIIXL  61 

riie  dauf^liter  of  Messer  Guido  than  the  daughter 
Of  Boemoudo,  King  of  Seivia, 
To  the  Doge  of  Venice. 

Adoxella. 
And  if  she  go  by  sea  we  have  store  enough 
Of  oil  and  lavender 
To  perfume  all  the  sea. 

Alda. 
And  we  will  teach  the  women. 
Of  Rimino,  that  are  a  little  raw, 
The  art  of  odours. 

BlANCOFIORE 

And  the  art  of  playing. 
And  of  singing  and  of  dancing. 

Altichiara. 

O,  I  forgot 
That  I  have  yet  to  put  a  patch  of  scarlet 
On  the  jerkin  of  Gian  Figo. 
He  comes  again  at  noonday. 

Biancofioke. 
lie  will  do  well  to  finish 
The  story  of  Morgana  and  the  shield, 
And  of  the  magic  potion. 

Alda. 
Hey.  hey,  the  wedding  in  May! 
The  table  must  be  biid  for  thirty  dishes 
And  for  a  hundred  trenchers. 

Biancofioke. 
We  must  bring  word 
To  Mazarello 
To  have  tlie  music  ready. 


62  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Adonella. 
Ah,  we  have  much  to  be  doing! 

Gaksenda. 
Hey,  hey,  to  work,  to  work! 

Adonella. 
Come,  lay  our  distaffs  down 
And  take  our  garlands  up. 

[Theij  go  into  the  room  with  a  murmur,  like  a 
swarm  of  bees  into  the  hive.  Francesc  A  has 
raised  her  head,  and  her  tears  are  suddenly 
lit  up  by  a  smile.  While  the  Women  on  the 
loggia  loere  chattering  in  a  low  voice  among 
themselves,  she  wiped  the  tears  from  her  face 
and  the  face  of  her  sister  with  her  fingers. 
Now  she  speaks,  and  her  first  words  are 
heard  through  the  last  words  of  the  Women.  ] 

Francesca. 

0  sister,  sister. 

Weep    no  more.     Now  I  weep  no  more.    See 
now, 

1  am  smiling.     Tears  and  smiles 
Are  not  enough  now.     Close 

And  narrow  is  the  heart  to  hold  this  power, 

And  weeping  is  a  virtue  all  outspeut, 

And  laughter  is  a  little  idle  play; 

And  all  my  life  seems  now, 

With  all  the  veins  of  it, 

And  all  the  days  of  it. 

And  all  old  things  in  it,  far  away  things. 

From  long  ago  in  the  old  time,  the  blind 

And  silent  time,  when  I 

Was  but  an  infant  on  my  mother's  breast, 


FRAXCESCA  DA   HIMINL  6^ 

And  you  were  not, 

Seems  all  to  tremble 

In  one  lon<?  shuddering 

Over  the  earth ; 

And  now  throu<;h  all  the  sti-eams 

That  laugh  and  weep  in  the  places 

That  I  have  never  known, 

The  forces  of  my  being  are  cast  abroad; 

And  I  hear  the  air  cry  with  a  terrible  cry. 

And  I  hear  the  light 

Sound  like  a  trumpet-peal, 

And  the  shouting  that  I  hear 

And  the  tumult  cry  out  louder  than  the  sound 

In  days  of  vengeance,  sister,  when  the  blood 

Colours  the  portals  of  our  father's  house. 

Samaritaxa. 
O  Francesca,  my  Francesca,  O  dear  soul. 
What  have  you  seen?    What  is  it  you  have  seen? 

Francesca. 
No,  do  not  be  afraid  ! 
What  is  it  your  eyes  speak? 
What  sickness  am  I  stricken  with,  and  what, 
What  have  I  seen? 
It  is  life  runs  away, 
Runs  away  like  a  river, 
Ravening,  and  yet  cannot  find  its  sea; 
And  the  roar  is  in  my  ears. 
But  you,  but  you, 

Take  me,  dear  sister,  take  mc  with  you  now, 
And  let  mo  be  with  you! 
Carry  me  to  my  room, 
And  shut  the  shutters  fast. 
And  give  me  a  little  shade, 


64  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMIMI. 

And  give  me  a  draught  of  water, 

And  lay  me  down  upon  your  little  bed, 

And  with  a  covering  cover  me  and  make 

A  silence  of  the  shouting,  make  a  silence 

Of  the  shouting  and  the  tumult 

I  hear  within  my  soul! 

Bring  stillness  back  to  me, 

That  I  may  hear  again 

The  bees  of  May 

Beat  on  the  window,  and  the  cry  of  the  swallows, 

And  some  of  your  soft  words, 

Your  words  of  yesterday, 

Your  words  of  long  ago 

And  long  ago. 

Out  of  an  hour  that  comes  to  me  again 

Like  an  enchantment. 

And  hold  me  close,  dear  sister, 

And  hold  me  close  to  you! 

And  we  will  wait  for  night 

Night  with  its  prayer  and  sleep, 

Sister;  and  for  the  morning  we  will  wait 

That  brings  that  morning-stai". 
Garsenda 
[rushinrj  in  upon  the  loggia]. 

He  is  coming,  he  is  coming!     O  Madonna 

Francesca!  see,  he  is  coming  by  the  way 

Of  the  garden.    I  have  seen  him  from  the  room 

Of  the  coffers,  I  have  seen  him 

Under  the  cypresses.     Smaragdi  shows  him 

The  way. 

[The  other  Women  join  her,  curious  and  mirth- 
ful; and  they  have  garlands  on  their  heads  for 
joy:  and  they  have  with  them  three  Girls, 


FRANCESCA  DA  EUIINI.  65 

lute-players    and    viol-players     and    Jltite- 
players.  J 

Francesca 
[white  'with  fear,  and  beside  herself]. 
No,  no,  no!     Run, 
Run,  women,  run ! 
Let  him  not  come!     Run,  run! 
Women,  go  out  to  meet  him, 
Let  him  not  come!    Shut  to 
The  gates,  and  bar  the  way,  and  say  to  him 
Merely  that  I  salute  him !  and  you,  you, 
Saraaritana,  help  me. 
Because  I  cannot  fly;  but  my  knees  fail 
And  my  sight  fails  me. 
But  you,  my  women,  run, 
Run  now,  and  meet  him, 

And  bid  him  turn  again!    Go  out  to  meet  him, 
And  say  that  I  salute  him! 

Tup:  Women. 

He  is  here ! 
He  is  here,  he  is  here  at  hand! 

[Aided  by  her  sister,  Francesca  is  about  to  go 
xip  the  stairs;  but  suddenly  she  sees  Paolo 
Mai.atesta,  close  to  her,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  marble  screen.  She  stands  motionless, 
and  he  stops,  in  the  midst  of  the  arbutuses; 
and  t.heij  stand  facing  one  another,  separated 
by  the  railing,  looking  at  one  another,  without 
word  or  movement.  The  Slave  is  hidden 
behind  the  leaves.  The  Women  on  the  loggia 
form  in  a  circle,  and  the  Players  sound 
their  instruments.] 


66  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  BIMINI. 

Chorus  of  Women. 
Over  the  land  of  May 
The  archer  ivith  Ids  band 
Goes  out  to  seek  Ms  prey. 
At  a  feast  of  fears, 
In  a  far-off  land, 
A  heart  sighs  with  tears. 

[Francesca  leaves  her  sister  and  goes  sloioly 
towards  the  sarcophagus.  She  picks  a  large 
redrose,  and  offers  it  to  Paolo  Malatesta 
across  the  bars.  Samaritana  with  bowed 
head  goes  up  the  stairs  loeeping.  The  loomen 
take  up  the  song.  At  the  barred  window,  at 
the  back,  Banning  appears,  with  his  face 
bandaged;  then  drawing  back,  he  beats  at 
the  door  closed  by  Ostasio.  Fkancesca 
trembles.] 

The  voice  of  Banning. 
Fraucesca,  open,  Francesca! 


ACT  II. 


cross-shaped  room,  in  the  house  of  the  Malatesti, 
with  projecting  side  beams  and  strong  pillars, 
two  of  which,  at  the  back,  support  an  arch  which 
leads  through  a  narrov}  closed  entrance  between 
two  walls  pierced  by  loopholes,  to  the  platform 
of  around  tower.  Two  side  staircases  of  twelve 
steps  run  from  the  entrance  to  the  leads  of  the 
tower;  a  tldrd  staircase,  between  the  two,  runs 
from  the  leads  to  the  floor  underneath,  passing 
through  a  trap-door.  Through  the  archioay  are 
seen  the  square  battlements  of  the  Guelfs,  provided 
with  blockhouses  and  openings  for  pouring  down 
molten  lead.  A  huge  catapult  lifts  its  head  out 
of  its  supports  and  stretches  out  its  framework  of 
twisted  ropes.  Heavy  crossbows,  with  large- 
headed,  short,  and  square  bolts,  balistas,  arco- 
balistas,  and  other  rope-artillery,  are  placed 
around,  with  their  cranks,  pullies,  wheels,  wires, 
and  levers.  The  summit  of  the  tower,  crowned 
with  engines  and  arms  that  stand  out  in  the 
murky  air,  overlooks  the  city  of  liiuiino,  where 
can  be  dimly  seen  the  wing-shaped  battlements 
of  the  highest  Ghibelline  tower.  On  the  right  of 
Die  room  ix  a  door;  on  the  left,  a  narrow  fortified 
vnnduio  looking  out  on  the  Adriatic. 


68  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

In  the  closed  entrance  is  seen  a  Man-At-Akms  stir- 
ring the  fire  under  a  smoking  cauldron.  He  has 
piled  against  the  wall  the  tubes,  syphons  and 
poles  of  the  fiery  staves  and  darts,  and  heaped 
about  them  all  sorts  of  prepared  fires.  On  the 
tower,  beside  the  catapult,  a  young  Archer 
stands  on  guard. 

Man-At-Akms. 
The  meadow  of  the  Commune  is  still  empty? 

Archek. 
As  clean  and  polished  as  my  buckler. 
Man-At-Arms. 

Still 
Not  a  soul  stirring! 

Archer. 
Not  the  shadow  even 
Of  a  Gambancerro  or  of  an  Omodeo. 

Man-At-Arms. 
They  seem  then  to  be  dead  already,  those 
That  have  to  die. 

Archer. 

Quite  otherwise  than  dead! 
If  all  we  did  not  buckle  breastplates  well, 
And  if  the  gates  were  not  cross-bolted  fast, 
You  would  soon  hear  a  hammering  of  hearts 
In  the  regions  about  Rimino.  .  .  .  Ah,  there  goes 
A  donkey. 

Man-At-Arms. 
It  is  Messer  Montagna,  eh? 
Of  the  Parcitadi,  or  Messer  Ugolino 
Cignatta. 

Archer. 
Both  of  them,  my  Berlingerio, 


FRAXCESCA  DA  HI  MINI.  69 

Staud  with  the  right  foot  ready 

In  the  stirrup  of  the  crossbow,  for  the  sign 

To  come  out  aud  to  face  the  bolts  and  bars. 

Man-At-Arms. 
What  sign?    The  Parcitade 
Lacks  his  astrologer.     He  waits  and  hopes 
For  succour  from  Ui'bino. 
But  long  before  Count  Guido  comes  to  us. 
By  the  body  of  San  Giulian  the  martyr, 
We  shall  have  burnt  the  city  to  the  ground. 
We  have  enough  to  do  with  burning  down 
Half  of  Komagua.     'Tis  warm  work  this  time, 
I  warrant  you!     The  Lamester 
Wanted  to  singe  his  horse's  mane  with  one 
Of  these  fire-bearers: 
Sure  sign  we  are  in  salamander  weather. 

Akcukk. 
He  loves  the  stench  of  singeing,  it  would  seem, 
More  than  the  civet  of  his  wedded  wife, 
That  woman  of  Ravenna!  another  thing 
Than  firebrands  or  this  sulphur  and  bitumen! 
A  smile  of  hers  would  set  the  city  alight 
And  all  the  country  and  the  territory. 

Man-At-Akms. 
She  smiles  but  little.    She  is  always  overcast 
With  thinking,  and  with  anger.     She  is  restless. 
I  see  her  almost  every  day  come  up 
Upon   this   tower.     She  scarcely    speaks.     She 

watches 
The  sea,  and  if  she  sees 
Some  galley  or  some  frigate  on  the  sea, 
She  follows  it  with  lier  eyes 
(Blacker  than  pitch,  her  eyes  !) 


•70  FJRANCESCA  DA  RiMtNt. 

Until  it  fades  away, 

As  if  she  waited  for  a  message  or 

Longed  to  set  sail.     She  goes 

From  tower  to  tower, 

From  the  Mastra  to  the  Eubbia, 

And  from  the  Gemmana  to  the  Tanaglia, 

Like  a  lost  swallow.     And  sometimes  I  fear, 

When  slie  is  on  the  platform, 

That  she  will  take  a  flying  leap  and  fall. 

Misericordia! 

Archer. 
The  Lamester  is  well  made 
To  ride  astride  upon  the  Omodeo, 
To  batter  strongholds,  and  to  ford  the  streams, 
And  to  force  palisades, 
To  plunder  and  to  pillage  all  the  earth, 
But  not  to  labour  in  the  lovely  vineyard 
That  God  has  given  him. 

Man-At-Arms. 

Hush !    You  must  not  speak 
So  loud;  we  should  not  hear  him  if  he  came. 
He  goes  about  more  softly  than  a  panther. 
You  cannot  hear  him  when  he  comes.    He  makes 
A  goodly  pair  with  Messer  Malatestino, 
That  comes  upon  you  always  suddenly 
Without  your  knowing  how  or  whence  he  came, 
And  gives  you  the  same  start, 
Always,  as  if  you  had  come  upon  a  ghost. 

A  RCUER. 

This  is  the  day  we  are  to  lay  about  us. 
The  women  will  be  all  shut  up. 
Man-At-Arms. 

This  one 


FBANCESCA  DA  EIMINI.  71 

Is  not  a  lady  to  be  frightened.     Look, 
See  what  is  stirring. 

Archer 
[returning  to  his  post^. 
I  see  the  friars, 

The  hermits  of  Sant'  Agostino,  pass 
To  the  exorcising.     I  can  smell  the  stench 
Of  singeing  in  the  cool  air. 

Man-At-Arms. 

And  the  gate 
Of  the  Gattalo  is  closed  still? 
Archer, 

Ay,  closed  still. 
Our  men,  that  had  to  come  Verrucchio  way, 
Will  be  by  now  with  trumpets  and  flags  flying 
At  the  bridge  of  the  Maone.     Messer  Paolo 
Came  with  the  infantry  by  the  postern  gate 
Of  the  sea. 

Man-At-Arms. 
The  mixture  now 
Is  ready  brewed.     Since  midday  I  have  stirred 
The  ladle,  mixed  and  moulded  it  together. 
We  are  to  sling  barrels  and  casks  of  it 
Upon  the  excommunicated  houses. 
But  what  is  it  we  wait  for?    The  conjunction 
Of  Mars  with  Venus?     This  astrologer, 
Come  from  Ualdach,  does  not  quite  seem  to  me 
A  modern  lialaam.     God  bo  on  our  side! 
Look  if  yf)u  see  him  now 
Upon  the  belfry  of  Santa  Colomba. 
He  is  to  ring  the  bell  three  times,  to  say 
The  fates  are  in  our  favour. 


72  FHA^WESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Aechek. 

I  can  see 

A  great  long  beard. 

Man-At-Arms. 

May  he  be  tarred  all  over  with  his  tow, 

And  brayed  into  a  mortar!    I  suspect  him. 

He  was  with  Ezeliuo  at  Padua, 

And  other  of  hell's  own  Ghibellines.    I  know  not 

Why  Messer  Malatesta 

Keeps  in  his  company. 

Archer. 
Guido  Bonatto,  of  Forli,  I  know 
To  be  a  true  astrologer  of  battles. 
I  saw  him  on  the  great  day  of  Yalbona, 
And  his  prognostic  never  faulted. 
Man-At-Arms. 

Now 
The  cursed  Feltran  has  him.     Thunder  strike 
His  eyesight  and  his  astrolabe! 

[Francesca  enters  by  the  door  on  the  right,  and 
advances  as  far  as  the  pillar  that  supports 
the  arch.  She  wears  about  her  face  a  dark 
band  that  passes  under  her  chin  and  joins 
a  kind  of  skull-cap  that  covers  her  hair,  leav- 
ing visible  the  tresses  knotted  on  her  neck.] 
Archer. 

The  dust 
Begins  to  rise  over  toward  Aguzano. 

Man-At-Arms. 
Are  they  Count  Guido's  horsemen 
Tluit  ought  to  come  from  Petramala? 


FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  73 

Akchek. 


May  God  cast  down  their  eyes 
Out  of  their  visors  into  the  dust! 
Man-At-Akms. 


No. 


But  who. 


Who  are  they? 

Francesca. 

Berliugerio ! 

Man-at-Arms 

[starting]. 

O,  Madonna  Francesca! 

[The  Archer  remains  silent  and  stares  at  Iter 
blankly,  leaning  on  the  catapult] 
Francesca. 
Messer  Giovanni 
Is  at  the  Mastra  yet? 

Max-At-Arms. 
Not  yet,  Madonna.     We  expect  him  now. 
Francesca. 

And  no  one  else? 

Man- At- A  RMS. 

Yes,  Messer  Malatesta, 
The  old  man.     He  himself  it  was  who  made 
The  mixing  in  the  cauldron;  and  I  am  here 
Since  midday  with  this  ladle,  stirring  it. 
Francesca 
{going  nearer]. 
And  no  one  else? 

Man-At-Arms. 

And  no  one  else,  Madonna. 


•74  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Francesca. 
What  are  you  doing  here? 

Man-At-Arms. 

Making  Greek  fire, 
Distaffs  and  staves  and  spouts  and  lines  and  pots 
And  fiery  darts,  and  much 
Other  caresses  for  the  Parcitadi, 
Because  we  trust  to  come  to  blows  to-day 
And  give  them  from  this  quarter  what  shall  prove 
A  good  pai't-payment  of  their  coming  hell. 

Francesca. 
(Looking  vionderingly  at  the  boiling  mass  in  the 

cauldron) 
Greek  fire!    Who  can  escape  it?    I  have  never 
Seen  it  before.     Tell  me,  is  it  not  true 
That  there  is  nothing  known  so  terrible 
In  battles  for  a  torture? 

Man-At-Arms 
This  is  indeed  most  terrible;  'tis  a  secret 
That  Messer  Malatesta 
Had  from  an  aged  man  of  Pisa,  who 
Was  with  the  Christians  at  the  famous  taking 
Of  Damiata. 

Francesca. 
Tell  me,  is  it  true 
That  it  flames  in  the  sea, 
Flames  in  the  stream, 
Burns  up  the  ships, 
Burns  down  the  towers, 
Stifles  and  sickens. 
Drains  a  man's  blood  in  his  veins, 
Straightway,  and  makes 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  75 

Of  his  flesh  and  his  bones 

A  little  black  ashes, 

Draws  from  the  anguish 

Of  man  the  wild  cry  of  the  beast, 

That  it  maddens  the  horse, 

Turns  the  valiant  to  stone? 

Is  it  true  that  it  shatters 

The  rock,  and  consumes 

Iron,  and  bites 

Hard  to  the  heart 

Of  a  breastplate  of  diamond? 

Man-At-Arms. 
It  bites  and  eats 

All  kinds  of  things  that  are,  living  and  dead; 
Sand  only  chokes  it  out, 
But  also  vinegar 
Slacks  it. 

Francesca. 
But  how  do  you 
Dare,  then,  to  handle  it? 

Mak-At-Arm9. 

We  have  the  license 
Of  Beezlebub,  that  is  the  prince  of  devils, 
And  comes  to  take  the  part 
Of  the  Malatesti. 

Francesca. 

How  do  you  scatter  it? 

Man-at-Arms. 
With  tubes  and  syphons 
Of  a  long  range;  or  at  the  point  of  pikes 
With  distaffs  full  of  flax 
We  shoot  it  by  the  help  of  our  balistas. 


73  FEANCESCA  DA   RUIINI. 

See  here,  Madonna,  these  are  very  good 
Distaffs;  tliey  are 
The  distaffs  of  tlie  Guelfs 

That  without  spindle  weave  the  death  of  men. 
[He  takes  up  a  staff  prepared  for  the  fire  and 
shoios  it  to  FiJANCESCA,  loho  takes  it  by  the 
handle  and  shakes  it  vehemently.] 
Fkancesca. 
Light  one  for  me. 

Man-at-Arms. 

The  signal  is  not  yet 
Given. 

Francesca. 
I  would  have  you  light  this  one  for  me. 

Man-at-Arms. 
Who  is  to  put  it  out? 

Francesca. 

O,  I  must  see 
The  flame  that  I  have  never  seen  as  yet. 
Light  it!     Is  it  not  true  that  when  you  light  it 
It  darts  marvellous  colours,  like  no  other 
Creature  of  flight. 

Colours  of  such  a  mingling  that  the  eye 
Cannot  endure  them, 
Of  an  unspeakable 
Variety,  innumerable 
In  fervour  and  in  splendoui-,  that  alone 
Live  in  the  wandering  planets  and  within 
The  vials  of  alchemists; 
And  in  volcanoes  full  of  many  metals, 
And  in  the  dreams  of  blind  men?    Is  it  true? 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  77 

Max-at-Akms. 
In  very  deed,  Madonna, 
It  is  a  beautiful  and  pleasant  thing 
To  see  at  night  these  lighted  distails  fly 
And  light  upon  a  camp 
Of  the  imperial  ragamuffianry; 
And  that  knows  well  Messer  Giovanni,  your 
Good  husband,  who  takes  pleasure  to  behold  it. 

Francesca. 
Light  it,  then,  man-at-arms!  for  I  must  see  it. 

Man-at-Arms. 
'Tis  not  yet  night,  nor  is  the  signal  given. 

Francesca. 
Light  it!    I  bid  you. 
And  I  will  hide  myself  here  in  the  dark 
To  see  it,  by  the  stairway  leading  down, 
Where  it  is  darker. 

M  AN- AT-A  R.MS. 

Do  you  want  to  burn 
The  tower  with  all  the  archers, 
And  please  the  Parcitade  folk? 

[FiJANCESCA  dipH  the  fiery  staff  into  the  caul- 
dron, then  rapidly  lights  it  tuith  a  fire- 
brand.] 

Francesca. 

And  I 
Light  it! 

[The  violent  and  many-roloured  flame  crackles 
at  the  point  of  the  pike  that  she  holds  in  her 
hand  like  a  torch,  fearlessly]. 
O,  fair  flame,  conqueror  of  day! 
Ah,  how  it  lives,  how  it  lives  vibrating, 


78  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

The  whole  staff  vibrates  with  it,  and  my  hand 
And  my  arm  vibrate  with  it,  and  my  heart. 
I  feel  it  nearer  me 

Than  if  I  held  it  in  my  palm.     Wouldst  thou 
Devour  me,  fair  flame,  wouldst  thou  make  me 

thine? 
I  feel  that  I  am  maddening  for  thee. 

{Her  voice  rises  like  a  song.       The  Man-at- 

Arms  and  the  Akchek  gaze  in   astonisli- 

ment  at  the  flame  and  the  woman,  as  at  some 

ivork  of  sorcery]. 
And  how  it  roars! 
It  roars  to  seek  its  prey. 
It  roars  and  longs  for  flight; 
And  I  would  fling  it  up  into  the  clouds. 
Come,  charge  the  arbalest. 
The  sun  is  dead,  and  this, 
This  is  the  daughter  that  he  had  of  death. 
O  I  would  fling  it  up  into  the  clouds. 
Why  do  you  linger?    Xo,  I  am  not  mad, 
No,  no,  poor  man-at-arms,  who  look  at  me 
In  wonderment. 

[She  laughs.] 
No,  but  this  flame  is  so 
Beautiful,  I  am  drunk  with  it.     I  feel 
As  I  were  in  the  flame  and  it  in  me. 
You,  you,  do  you  not  see  how  beautiful. 
How  beautiful  it  is?    The  bitter  smoke 
Has  spoilt  your  eyes  for  seeing.     If  it  shines 
So  gloriously  by  day,  how  will  it  shine 
By  night? 

[She  approaches  the  trap-door  through  which  the 

stairs  go  down  into  the  tower,  and  lowers 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  79 

the  burning  staff  into  the  darkness.] 
A  mii-acle !  A  miracle ! 
Man-at-Arms. 
Madonna,  God  preserve  us,  you  will  burn 
The  whole  tower  down. 
Madonna,  I  pray  you ! 

[He  hastily  draws  back  out  of  the  way  of  sparks 
the  staves  prepared  for  fire  ivhich  are  lying 
about]. 

Feancesca 

[Intejit  on  the  light]. 

It  is  a  niiracle! 
It  is  the  joy  of  the  eyes,  and  the  desire 
Of  splendour  and  desti'uction.     In  the  heart 
Of  silence  of  this  high  and  lonely  mouut 
Shall  I  spread  forth  these  gems  of  frozen  fire, 
That  all  the  terror  of  the  flame  unloose 
And  bring  to  birth  new  ardours  in  the  soul? 
Tremendous  life  of  swiftness,  mortal  beauty! 
Swift   through    the   night,   swift  through    the 

starless  night. 
Fall  in  the  camp,  and  seize  tbe  armed  man, 
Enswathe  his  sounding  armour,  glide  between 
Strong  scale  and  scale,  hunt  down 
The  life  of  veins,  and  break 
The  bones  asunder,  suck  the  marrow  out. 
Stifle  him,  rend  him,  blind  him,  but  before 
The  final  darkness  falls  upon  his  eyes, 
Let  all  the  soul  within  him  without  hope 
Shriek  in  the  splendour  that  is  slaying  him. 

[She  listenx  in  the  direction  of  the  trap-door.] 
Some  one  is  coming  up  the  stairs  here.  Who 
Is  coming? 


80  FRAXCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Man-at-Arms 
On  each  floor 
We  have  a  Imudred  men, 
Archers  and  those  that  work  the  manganels, 
Hidden,  and  bidden  not  to  move  or  breathe, 
Crammed  in  together  like  a  sheaf  of  arrows 
Inside  a  quiver.    Perhaps 
They  saw  the  flame. 

Francesca. 

It  is  one  man  alone. 
His  armour  clanks  upon  him. 
Who  is  it  coming? 

Man-At-Arms. 
Lift  up  the  staff,  turn  it  away.  Madonna 
Francesca,  it  is  surely  not  an  enemy, 
Or  you  are  like  to  burn  him  in  the  face. 
Perhaps  it  is  Messer  Giovanni. 

Francesca 
\hending  over  the  opening]. 

Who  are  you? 
Who  are  you? 

The  Voice  Of  Paolo. 
Paolo! 
[Francesca  is  silent;  she  draws  back  the  fiery 
staff,  and  the  flame,  heightened  by  the  sud- 
den movement,  lights  up  the  helmet  and  gor- 
gerin  of  Paolo  Malatesta. 
Paolo  appears,  up  to  the  loaist,  in  the  opening 
of  the  stairs,  and  turns  to  Francesca  who 
has  moved  back  against  the  wall,  still  hold- 
ing in  her  hand  the  iron  handle  of  the  staff, 
which  she  has  lowered  to  the  ground,  so  that 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  81 

the  fire  burns  perilously  near  her  feet.     The 
Archer  has  returned  to  Ids post.\ 
Man-At-Arms. 

You  have  come  just  iu  time,  Messer  Pao]o,  just 

In  time,  for  all  we  here 

Were  like  to  have  been  roasted  living,  we 

And  all  the  towers  along  with  us.     You  see : 

Madonna  plays 

With  the  Greek  fire 

As  if  she  held 

A  lap-dog  in  a  leash. 

[Francesca,  pale  and  leaning  against  the  wall, 
laughs  with  a  troubled  laugh,  letting  the 
staff  all  from  her  hand.] 

It  is  a  miracle 

That  we  are  not  all  here  in  open  hell. 

You  see ! 

[He  pours  sand  on  the  flame  in  order  to  extin- 
guish it.  Paolo  runs  up  the  remaining 
steps;  as  he  sets  foot  on  the  platform  of  the 
tower,  the  Archer  j)oints  towards  the  city, 
to  show  ichere  the  battle  is  beginning. \ 
Archer. 

There  is  tumult  in  the  San  Cataldo  quarter. 

It  is  breaking  out  at  tlie  Mombruto  bridge 

Over  the  Patara  trench. 

And  they  are  fighting  at  the  fullers'  mill 

Under  the  gun  tower,  there,  by  the  Masdogna. 
[Francesca  moves  away,  stepping  uncertainly 
among  the  arrows  and  engines  heaped 
around,  and  goes  towards  the  door  by  which 
she  had  come;  she  pauses  by  the  pillar  that 
hides  her  from  the  eyes  o/Paolo|. 


82  FUANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Man-At-Akms. 
We  are  still  waiting 
For  the  signal,  Messer  Paolo. 
It  is  almost  vespers.     What  are  we  to  do  ? 
[Paolo  does  not  seem  to  hear,  possessed  by  a 
single    thought,   a  single  anguish.     Seeing 
Fkancesca  has  gone,  he  leaves  the  toivei; 
and  goes  down  one  of  the  little  side  staircases 
to  rejoin  her.] 

Paolo. 
Francescal 

Fbancesca, 
Give  the  signal.     Paolo,  give 
The  signal!    Do  not  fear 
For  me,  Paolo.     Let  me  stay  here  and  hear 
The  twanging  of  the  bows. 
I  cannot  breathe 

When  I  am  shut  into  my  room,  among 
My  trembling  women,  and  I  know  there  is  fight- 
ing 
Out  in  the  city.    I  would  have  you  give  me, 
My  lord  and  kinsman,  a  fair  helmet. 
Paolo. 


I 


Will  give  you  one. 

Francesca. 
Have  you  come  from  Cesena? 

Paolo. 
I  came  to-day. 

Francesca. 
You  stayed 
A  long  while  there. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  83 

Paolo. 

It  took  us  forty  days 
With  Guido  di  Monforte  in  the  field 
To  take  Cesena  and  the  castle. 
Fkancesca. 

Ah! 
You  have  toiled,  I  think,  too  much. 
You  are  a  little  thinner  and  a  little 
Paler,  it  seems  to  me. 

Paolo. 
There  is  an  Autumn  fever 
Among  the  thickets  on  the  Savio. 

Fbaxcesca. 

No, 
But  you  are  sick?    You  tremble.    And  Orabile, 
Has  she  no  medicine  for  you? 
Paolo. 

This  fever 
Feeds  on  itself;  I  ask  no  medicine, 
I  seek  no  herb  to  heal  my  sickness,  sistei". 

Fkancesca. 
I  liad  a  healin<^  herb 

When  I  was  in  my  father's  house,  the  house 
Of  my  good  father,  God  protect  him,  God 
Protect  him  !     I  had  a  herb,  a  healing  herb, 
Tl)ere  in  the  garden  vt'here  you  came  one  day 
Clothed  in  a  garment  that  is  called,  I  think, 
Fraud,  in  the  gentle  world; 
But  you  set  foot  on  it,  and  saw  it  not, 
And  it  lias  never  <;omc  up  any  more. 
However  light  your  foot  may  be,  my  lord 
And  kinsman.     It  was  dead. 


!4  FRANCE SC A  DA   RIMlNl 

Paolo. 

I  saw  it  uot, 
I  knew  not  where  T  was, 
Xor  who  had  led  my  feet  into  that  way, 
I  did  not  speak,  I  did  not  hear  a  word, 
I  had  no  bounds  to  cross, 
No  barriers  to  break  down, 
I  only  saw  a  rose 

That  offered  itself  up  to  me  more  living 
Than  the   lips  of  a  fresh  wound,  and  a  young 

song 
I  heard  in  the  air,  and  I  heard  angry  blows 
Beaten  upon  a  loud  and  terrible  door. 
And  I  heard  an  angry  voice  that  cried  your  name 
In  anger.     Only  that,  nothing  but  that. 
Nor  from  that  way  did  I  come  back  by  will 
Of  coming  back ; 
Because  the  ways  of  death 
Are  not  so  secret  as  that  other  way, 
O  sister,  if  God  wills. 

Fkancesca. 

I  also  saw 
With  my  own  eyes  the  dawn, 
The  dawn  that  brings  with  it  the  morning  star, 
TJie  nurse  of  the  young  heavens, 
That  had  but  newly  waked  to  give  its  milk 
When  the  last  dream  of  sleep 
Came  to  my  pillow ;  and  I  also  saw, 
With  my  own  eyes  I  saw. 
With  horror  and  with  shame, 
About  me  as  it  were  an  impure  stream 
Of  water  flung  suddenly  outraging 
A  palpitating  face 


FRAyCEsCA  DA  RIMIXI.  85 

Lifted  to  driuk  the  light. 

This  did  I  see  with  my  owu  eyes;  and  this 

I  sluill  see  always  till  the  night  has  fallen, 

The  night  that  has  no  dawn, 

Brother. 

Paolo. 
The  shame  and  horror  be  on  me  ! 
The  light  that  came  again 
Found  me  awake. 
Teace  had  forever  fled 
Out  of  the  soul  of  Paolo  Malatesta; 
It  has  not  cuuie  again,  it  will  not  come 
Ever  again; 

Peace  and  the  soul  of  Paolo  Malatesta 
Are  enemies  from  now  in  life  or  de.ath. 
And  all  things  were  as  i  iieinies  to  me 
From  the  hour  that  you  si  t  foot 
Upon  the  threshold,  and  v.ithout  escape, 
And  I  turned  back  and  followed  with  the  guide. 
Violent  deeds 

Were  the  one  m<'<li(iiio  for  my  disease, 
That  night:  violent  deeds. 
And  then  I  killed  Tindaro  Oniodei 
And  burned  his  roofs  about  him. 
I  gave  to  the  harsh  guide  another  prey. 

Francesca. 
God  sliall  forgive  you  this, 
CJod  shall  for;,'ive  yon  all  tlie  blood  you  shed, 
And  all  the  rest, 

But  not  the  tears  I  did  not  weep,  but  not 
The  eyes  tliat  were  still  dry  wluii  tlmdawn  came. 
I  cannot  weep  now,  brother!    Another  draught 
You  gave  me  at  the  ford 


so  FRANCESCA  DA  lilMINI. 

Of  the  beautiful  river,  do  you  remember  it? 

"With  your  false  heart, 

Filled  full  with  madness  and  with  treachery, 

That  was  the  last, that  was  the  last  that  quenched 

My  thirst;  and  now  no  water 

Can  quench  my  thirst,  not  any  more,  my  lord. 

And  then  we  saw  the  walls  of  Rimino, 

And  then  we  saw  the  Galeana  gate, 

And  the  sun  was  going  down  upon  the  hills, 

And  all  the  horses  neighed  against  the  walls, 

And  then  I  saw  your  face, 

Silent,  between  the  spears 

Of  the  horsemen.     And  a  wicked  thing  it  was 

That  you  did  not  let  me  drift  upon  the  stream. 

That  would  have  taken  me  and  laid  me  down 

Softly  upon  the  seashore  of  Ravenna, 

And  some  one  would  have  found  me,  and  brought 

me  back 
To  my  good  father,  to  my  most  kind  father 
That  without  thought  of  wrong  had  given  me 
To  whom  he  would,  yes,   without  thought  of 

wrong; 
God  have  him  in  his  keeping,  give  him  always 
More  and  more  lordship ! 

Paolo. 

Your  rebuke,  Francesca, 
Is  cruel  over-much,  sweet  over-much. 
And  my  heart  melts  within  me,  and  my  sad  soul 
Is  shed  before  the  strangeness  of  your  voice. 
My  soul  is  shed  before  you, 
All  that  is  in  me  have  I  cast  away. 
And  I  will  no  more  stoop  to  pick  it  up. 
How  would  you  have  me  die? 


FRANCESCA  DA    RIMINI.  87 

Fbancesca. 
Like  to  the  galley-slave 

Rowing  in  the  galley  that  is  called  Despair, 
So  would  I  have  you  die;  and  there  and  then 
The  memory  of  that  draught 
You  gave  me  at  the  ford 
Of  the  beautiful  river, 

Before  we  had  come  to  the  water  of  treachery 
And  to  the  walls  of  fraud,  should  buru  in  you 
And  should  consume  you.     My  brother  in  God, 
In  the  Most  High  God, 
And  in  Saint  John,  better  it  were  for  you 
That  you  should  lose  your  life  than  stain  your 

soul. 

[The  bells  of  Santa  Colomba  are  heard.    Both 
shiver  as  if  returnuvj  to  consciouH)iess.] 
Ah!  where  are  we?    Wlio  is  it  calling  us? 
Paolo,  what  hour  is  that? 
What  are  you  doing? 

[The  Man-at-Ab.ms  and  the  Archer,  busy 
loading  the  bulislas  and  cocking  the  jiery 
staves,  start  at  the  sound.] 

Max- AT- A  RMS. 

The  signal !    It  is  the  signal ! 
It  is  the  bells  of  Santa  Colomba  I 

Arcuer. 

Fire! 
Fire!    Long  live  Malatesta! 

[.\  Troop  of  Akchkrs  hurry  shouting  up 
through  the  trap-door,  and  through  the 
platform  of  the  tower,  and  seize  weapons 
and  engines.\ 


18  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Archers. 
Long  live  Messer  Malatesta  and  the  Guelfs! 
Down  with  Messer  Paicitade  and    the  Ghibel- 
lines! 
[On  the  battlements  is    a   great  sheaf  of  fiery 
stav!es,whichglows in  the  dusky  air.  Paolo 
Malatesta  takes  his  helmet  from  his  head 
and  gives  it  to  Fbancesca.] 

Paolo. 
Here  is  the  helmet  that  I  have  to  give  you. 

Francesca. 
Paolo ! 

[Paolo  rushes  upon  the  tower.  His  bare  head 
overtops  the  Men-at-Arms  as  they  work. 
Francesca,  throioing  doivn  the  helmet, 
follows,  calling  to  him  through  the  noise 
and  clamour.] 

Paolo. 
Give  me  a  crossbow ! 

Francesca. 

Paolo!    Paolo! 
Paolo. 
A  bow !    A  crossbow ! 

Francesca. 

Paolo!    Paolo! 
[An  Archer  is  knocked  over  by  a  bolt  which 
takes  him  in  the  throat.] 

Man-at-Arms. 
Madonna,  get  you  gone,  for  God's  sake;  now 
They  are  beginning  here  to  bite  the  leads. 


FRANCESCA  DA   BIMINI.  89 

[Some  Archers  raise  their  large  painted  shields 
in  the  way  of  Francesca  as  she  tries  to 
follovc  Paolo.  ] 

Archers. 
The  Galeana  Tower  is  answering! 
Cignatta's  men  are  coming 
By  tire  Masdogna! 

Long  live  Messer  Malatesta  and  the  Guelfs! 
Verrucchio!     Verrucchio! 

[Francesca  tries  to  get  past  the  Archers, 
v)ho  stop  her  way.] 

Max-at-Arms. 

Madonna, 
By  any  God  you  worship!    Messer  Paolo, 
Pay  a  little  heed  here!     Here  is  Madonna  Fran- 
cesca 
Out  in  the  open.     It  is  death  here. 

|Paolo,  snatching  a  crossbow,  stands  on  the 
rampart,  firing  furiously,  in  full  view  of 
the  enemy,  like  a  madman.] 

Francesca. 

Paolo ! 
[Paolo  turns  at  the  cry,  and  sees  the  woman  in 
the  glare  of  the  fires.    He  snatches  a  shield 
from  one  of  the  Archers  and  covers  her.] 
I'aolo. 
Ah,  Francesca,  go,  go!    What  is  this  madness? 
[lie  pushes   her   toioard      shelter,    holding   the 
shield  over  her;  she  gazrs  nt  his  angry  and 
beautiful  fare  from  under  the  shield.] 

Fra.vcksca. 

You 
Arc  the  madman  I     You  arc  the  madman! 


90  FRANCEHCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Paolo. 
And  was  I  not  to  die? 

[Ue  leads  her  back  to  shelter  and  throios  down 
the  shield,  still  holding  the  crossbow.] 

Fkancesca. 

Not  now,  not  now, 
It  is  not  yet  the  hour. 

Archers. 

— Malatesta!  Malatesta! 
— Cignatta's  men  are  there,  under  the  Riibbia! 
— This  side,  this  side! 

[They  come  down  by  the  stairs  on  the  left  and 

set  the  crossboios  to    the  arrow-slits  in  the 

ivalls.     The  bells  ring  in  all  directions.     A 

distant  sound  of  trumpets  is  heard.] 

— Verruchio !    Down  with  the  Parcitade !    Death 

To  the  Ghibelline! 

— Long  live  Messer  Malatesta  I 
Long  live  the  Guelfs! 

Paolo. 
This  is  the  hour,  if  you  will  see  me  die, 
If  you  will  lift  my  head  out  of  the  dust 
With  your  two  hands.    What  other  could  I  have? 
I  will  not  die  the  death  of  the  galley-slave. 

Francesca. 
Paolo,  steel  your  heart  against  your  fate, 
Be  silent  as  that  day 
Under  the  heavy  guidance,  as  that  day 
Among  the  spears  of  the   spearmen.      And  let 

me  not 
Stain  my  own  soul  for  your  sake! 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  91 

Paolo. 

Ay,  to  play 
With  fate  is  what  I  will, 
Is  what  my  false  heart  wills, 
Filled  full  of  madness  and  of  treachery. 

[With  an  impetuous  gesture  he  draws  her  towards 
the  fortified  loindow,  and  puts  into  her  hand 
the  cord  that  hangs  from  the  portcullis.] 
Throw  the  portcullis  open ! 
A  child's  hand  opens  it. 
The  mei'e  touch  of  an  innocent  hand. 

[lie  gathers  a  bundle  of  arrows  and  throios  them 
at  the  feet  of  Francesca.  Then  he  loads 
the  crossbow.] 

FUANCESCA. 

Ah,  madman ! 

Madman!     And  do  you  think 

My  hand  will  tremble?     Do  you  think  to  tempt 

My  soul  after  this  fashion?    I  am  ready 

For  any  mortal  <;anie  men  play  with  fate, 

Knowiiif^  I  shall  not  lose, 

.Seeinj^  that  all  is  lost. 

But  you  now  stand 

Upon  tremendous  limits,  where  God  help  you! 

I  open  fur  you.     See! 

Look  straif^ht  before  you, 

And  take  the  sign,  if  you  would  not  have  me 
lan(;h. 
[She  pulls  the  portcullis  open  with  the  cord,  and 
Ihromih    the  (>]>ening  is  seen  the  open  sea, 
shining  under  the  last  rays  of  light.] 

The  sea!    The  sea! 

[Paolo  aims  the  crossbow  and  fires.] 


92  FRANCESCA  DA   lilMINL 

Paolo. 
A  good  stroke !     It  is  gone 
Through  neck  and  neckpiece. 
That's  my  good  forerunner 
In  the  laud  of  darkness ! 
[Fkancesca  lowers  the  portcullis,  and  the  re- 
turn arrow  is  heard  against  it.     Paolo  re- 
loads the  crossbow.] 

Archers 
[On  the  tower^^. 

— Victory! 
Victory!    Death,  death  to  the  Parcitadi! 
Long  live  Messer  Malatesta  and  the  Guelfs! 
— Victory!    Victory!  the  Ghibelline  is  broken 
At  the  Patara  bridge. 
— The  fuller's  mill  is  empty! 
— Messer  Giovanni  galloping  with  the  spears 
At  the  Gattolo  gate!    Cignatta  scampering! 
— Be  careful  not  to  wound 
Our  own  folk  in  the  fray! 
— Victory  to  Malatesta! 

Francesca 
[In  great  emotion]. 
I  have  seen  the  sea, 
The  eternal  sea, 
The  witness  of  the  Lord, 
And  on  the  sea  a  sail 
That  the  Lord  set  to  be  a  sign  of  saving. 
Paolo,  brother  in  God, 
I  make  a  vow 
If  the  Lord  of  mercy 
Have  you  in  keeinng! 


FEANCESCA  DA  RIMIXI.  93 

Paolo. 

Raise  the  portcullis  up ! 

Francesca 

I  will  not  let  it  down  again.     This  hazard 

Shall  be  God's  judgment,  this  judgment  of  the 
arrow. 

Man  is  deceit,  but  God  is  very  truth. 

Brother  in  God,  the  stain  of  fraud  you  have 

Upon  your  soul, 

Let  it  be  pardoned  to  you  with  all  love, 

And  let  the  judgment  of  God 

Make  proof  of  you 

Now  by  the  arrow 

That  it  touch  you  not; 

Or  it  were  better 

That  you  give  your  life, 

And  I  with  you. 

[Uoldlny  the  thjfdened  cord  in  her  hand  she 
kneels  and  prays,  vnth  her  wide-open  e^jes 
fixed  on  Paolo's  unarmed  head.  Through 
the  raised  portcullis  can  be  seen  the  shining 
sea.  Paolo  loads  and  fires  the  crossboio 
without  a  pause.  From  time  to  time  Ghibel- 
line  missiles  enter  by  the  window  and  strike 
on  the  opposite  vmll  or  fall  on  the  pavement 
without  wounding  him.  The  cruel  suspense 
convulses  the  fare  of  the  tooman  in  prayer. 
The  syllables  hardly  form  themselves  on  her 
parted  lips.] 

Our  Fatlicr  which  art  in  heaven, 
Hallijwcil  be,  thy  name, 

Thy  Kingdom  come, 

Thy  will  be  done  in  earth 


94  FRANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

As  it  is  in  heaven. 
Father,  give  us  this  day 
Our  daily  bread. 

[Paola,  having  failed  in  several  shots,  takes 

aim  more  carefully,  as  if  for  a  master-stroke. 

He  fires ;    a  clamour  is  heard  among  the 

enemy.] 

Paolo 
[With  Uerce  delight]. 
Ah,  Ugolino,  I  have  found  you  out! 

Francesca. 
And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we 
Forgive  our  debtors. 
And  lead  us  not 
Into  temptation, 
But  deliver  us  from  evil. 
So  be  it,  Amen. 

{Meanwhile  there  is  great  rejoicing  among  the 
Archeks  on  the  tower.  Some  carry  the 
killed  a)td  wounded  down  through  the  trap- 
door. ] 

Archers. 
— Victory  to  Malatesta! 

— Death  to  the  Parcitadi  and  the  Ghibellines! 
Montagna's  men  are  flying 
By  the  San  Cataldo  gate. — See,  see,  the  fire 
Is  spreading.     There's  a  powder-barrel  burst 
Over  the  house  of  Accarisio.     See, 
The  fire  is  spreading!    — Victory!    Malatesta! 
— Ah,  Messer  Ugolino 
Cigiiatta  has  fallen  from  his  horse.    He  is  dead ! 


FRANCESCA  DA  BUIINI.  95 

— A    bolt  from   a   crossbow   took    him   in   the 

mouth. 
Who  was  it  killed  him?    Was  it  Baitolo 
Gambitta? 

— Who,  who  killed  him?    One  of  ours? 

A  splendid  stroke ! 

— Deserves  a  hundred  lire, 

A  thousand  golden  crowns ! — Victory !  Victorj' ! 
[A  shaft  grazes  the  head  o/Paolo  Malatesta, 
passing  through  his  hair.  Francesca  ut- 
ters a  cry,  letting  go  the  cord;  starting  to 
her  feet,  she  takes  Jiis  head  in  her  hands, 
feeling  for  the  wound.  A  mortal  pallor 
overspreads  his  face  at  the  touch.  The  cross- 
bow falls  at  his  feet.] 

Fkancesca. 
Paolo!    Paolo! 

[She  looks  at  her  hands  to  see  if  they  are  stained 
with  blood.  They  are  lohite.  She  again 
searches  anxiously.] 

O,  what  is  this?    Oh,  God  ! 
Paolo!    Paolo!    You  are  not  bleedin*^,  and  you 

have 
No  sinfjle  drrtj)  of  blood  upon  your  head, 
Yet  you  look  dcatiily.     Paolo! 

I'AOI.O 

[In  a  choking  voice]. 

I  am  not  dying, 
Francesca.    Iron  has  not  touched  me. 

FHANCESfA. 

Saved ! 
O  saved  and  purc^!  (^"leansed  utterly  of  fraud  ! 
Give  thanks  to  (iod!     Kneel,  brother! 


^  PRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Paolo. 

But  your  hands 
Have  touched  me,  aud  the  soul 
Has  fainted  In  my  heart,  and  icy  cold 
Takes  hold  on  all  my  veins,  and  no  more  strength 
Is  in  me  now  to  live; 
But  of  this  other  life 
That  comes  to  meet  me — 

Fbancesca. 

Kneel,  kneel,  on  your  life  I 

Paolo. 
Ah!  an  unspeakable  fear  takes  hold  on  me. 
And  a  scorn  deeper  even  than  the  fear — 

Francesca. 
Kneel!    Kneel! 

Paolo. 
Since  I  have  lived 
With  such  an  infinite  force, 
Fighting  apart,  yet  ever  on  the  lonely 
Height  of  your  prayer. 
And  in  the  fiery  solitude  of  your  eyes — 

Fbancesca. 
Kneel!    Kneel!    Give  thanks  to  God ! 
I  will  not  lose  you  now  over  again! 

Paolo. 
Fighting  apart,  and  slaying 
Men — 

Francesca. 

You  are  pardoned  now. 

And  you  are  cleansed,  and  yet  you  will  be  lost! 

Paolo. 
And  all  my  courage  drawn 
Vehemently  about  my  angry  heart, 


FRANCESCA  DA   EIMINI.  97 

And  all  within  me  now 

The  power  of  ray  most  evil  love  sealed  up. 

Francesca. 

Lost!   Lost!    Say  you  are  mad, 

Say,  on  your  life,  that  you  are  mad,  and  say 

That  your  most  wretched  soul 

Has  heard  no  word  of  all  your  mouth  has  said ! 

By  the  arrow  that  passed  by 

And  struck  you  not. 

By  the  death  that  touched  you  with  its  finger-tip 

And  took  you  not, 

Say  that  your  life  shall  never,  never  speak 

Those  words  ajjain ! 

Archers. 

Long  live  Messer  Giovanni  Malatesta! 

[Giovanni  Malatesta  comes  t//)  by  the  stairs 
of  the  Mastra  Tower,  armed  from  head  to 
foot,  and  holding  a  Sardinian  rod  in  his 
hand.  He  limps  up  the  stairs,  and,  when  he 
has  reached  the  top,  raises  his  terrible  spear, 
while  his  harsh  voire  cuts  through  the 
clamour. \ 

GlANCIOTTO. 

By  God,  you  craven  creatures, 

You  cut-tluoat  spawn, 

I  am  well  minded 

To  pitch  you  all  headlong  into  the  Ausa, 

Like  carrion  that  you  are. 

Francesco. 
Your  brotlicr! 

|Paoi.<)  pirks  up  (he  crossbow^. 


3  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

You  are  more  ready 
To  cry  rejoicings 

Tlian  to  belabour  this  tough  Gliibelliue  hide, 
llovv  sliould  you  work  your  crossbows  without 

sinews? 
Had  I  not  come  to  aid  you  with  my  horse, 
Cignatta  would  have  battered  down  your  gates; 
God  break  the  arms  of  all  of  you  for  cowards  1 

Akcheks. 
— We  had  used  almost  all  our  stock  of  arrows. 
— The  Astrologer  was  late  in  signalling. 
— We  have  silenced  them  on  the  Galassa  tower. 
— We  have  piled  up  a  heap  on  the  Masdogna. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Poor  fire,  by  God !     There  are  not  many  houses 
To  be  seen  burning.     Badly  thrown,  your  fire. 

Archers. 
— The  house  of  Accarisio  is  still  burning. 
— And  the  good  Cignatta,  who  unhorsed   him 

then? 
— It  was  one  of  us  that  slit  his  windpipe  for  him  ? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Which  one  of  you  was  standing  at  the  window? 

Archers. 
— Was  not  this  one  here  something  of  the  cut? 
A  thousand  golden  crowns  to  the  company! 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Who  was  it  at  the  window? 


FEANCESCA  DA    UIMIXI.  99 

Akciiers. 
— ^Ve  have  been  slavint^on  au  empty  stomach. 
— We  are  dead  with  hunj^er  and  with  thirst. 

— Long  live 
Messer  Gianciotto  the  uever-satislied ! 

[Paolo  ^>/Vt.s  up  his  helmet,  puis  it  on  and  goes 
towards  the  tower.  Francesca  goes  to- 
toards  the  door  by  which  she  had  entered, 
opens  it  and  calls.] 

Francesca. 

0  Sraaragdi !    Smaragdi ! 

Gianciotto 

[To  the  Archers]. 

Be  silent  there.     Your  tongues  dry  up  in  you! 

No  talking  while  you  work:     I  like  you  silent. 

But  come  now,  there  is  a  great  cask  to  hurl; 

1  will  teach  you  the  right  way  of  it;  and  I  will 

send  it 
To  the  old  Parcitade  for  leave-taking 
In  my  good  father's  name.     Here,  Berlingerio, 
Where  is  my  brother  Paolo? 
Did  he  not  come  up  here? 

[The  Slave  appears  at  the  door;  then,  after  an 
order  from  her  mistress,  disappears.  Fran- 
cesca remains  standing  on  the  threshold. ) 

Paolo. 
Here.     I  am  liere,  Gianciotto.     It  was  I 
Who  shot  out  of  the  window.    The<Iumb  thing 
Struck  thiougli  the  throat  of  one  whose   mouth 

was  open 
To  jest  at  you. 

[There  is  a  murmur  among  the  AucHERS.] 


100  FltANCESCA  DA  RlMlNl 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Brother,  much  thanks  for  this. 

[He  turns  to  the  Men-at-akms]. 
So  sure  a  shot  must  needs 
Come  from  a  Malatesta, 
My  braggart  bowmen. 

[The  Slave  reappears  with  a  jar  and  a  cup. 
Francesca  comes  forward.     Gianciotto 
comes  down  towards  his  brother.] 
Paolo,  I  bring  you  news, 
Good  news. 

[He  sees  his  wife.    His  voice  changes  to  a  gentler 
tone.] 

Francesca! 
Francesca. 
All  hail,  my  lord ;  you  bring  the  victory. 
[He  goes  up  to  her  and  embraces  her.\ 

Gianciotto. 
Dear  lady,  why  are  you  in  such  a  place. 
[She  draws  back  from,  the  embrace.] 

Francesca. 
You  have  blood  upon  your  armour. 

Gianciotto. 

Have  I  painted  you? 

Francesca. 
You  are  all  over  dust. 

Gianciotto. 

Lady,  the  dust 
Is  bread  to  me. 

Francesca. 
You  are  not  wounded? 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  101 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Wounds? 
I  feel  none. 

Francesca- 
But  you  must  be  thirsty. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Yes, 
I  am  very  thirsty. 

Francesca. 
Samaragdi,  bring  the  wine. 
[The  Slave  comes  forward  with  the  jar  and  the  cup.] 

GlANCIOTTO 

[With  delUjhted  surprise]. 
What  my  dear  lady,  you  have  taken  thought 
I  might  be  thirsty?     Why,  you  must  have  set 
Your  slave  to  watch  for  me,   that  you   should 

know 
My  coming  to  the  minute. 

[Francesca  pours  out  the  wine  and  hands  the 
cup  to  her  husband.  Paolo  stands  aside  in 
silence,  vmtching  the  men  who  are  preparing 
the  fiery  cask.] 

Francesca. 
Drink,  it  is  wine  of  Scios. 

GlANCIOTTO, 

Drink  first,  I  pray  you. 
A  draught. 

Francesca. 
I  have  not  poisoned  it,  my  lord. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

You  laugh  at  me.     Not  for  suspicion's  sake, 
But  for  the  favour,  for  the  favour  of  it, 


102  FIIANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Francesca,  my  true  wife. 
I  have  no  fear  of  treachery  from  you. 
My  horse  has  not  yet  stumbled  under  me. 
Drink,  lady. 

[Francesca  touches  the  cup  loith  her  lips.] 
It  is  sweet, 
After  the  fight,  to  see  your  face  again, 
To  take   a  strong  wine  from  your  hands,  and 

drink  it 
Down  at  a  draught. 

[He  empties  the  cup.] 

So.     Why  this  warms  my  heart. 
And  Paolo?    Where  is  Paolo? 
Why  has  he  not  a  word  for  you?     He  comes 
Back  from  Cesena,  and  not 
A  word  of  welcome  has  my  kinsman  from  you. 
Paolo,  come  here.     Are  you  not  thirsty?    Leave 
Greek  fire  for  Greek  wine.     Then 
We  will  burn  up  the  Parcitadi  living! 
Lady,  pour  out  for  him  a  cup  brimful 
And  drink  with  him   a  draught,   to    do    him 

honour; 
And  welcome  him,  welcome  the  perfect  archer. 

Francesca. 
I  have  already  greeted  him. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

But  when? 
Francesca. 
When  he  was  shooting. 

Paolo. 

Do  you  know,  Gianciotto, 
I  came  up  on  the  tower 


FRANCE SC A  DA  RIMINI.  103 

And  found  her  iu  the  act  of  making  trial 
With  Berlingerio  of  a  fiery  dart? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Is  that  the  truth? 

Paolo. 
She  played 
With  lighted  fire,  and  the  poor  man-at-arms 
Was  crying  out  for  fear  the  tower  should  burn, 
And  she  the  while  was  laughing.     I  heard  her 

laugh, 
While  the  fue  lay  as  gentle  at  her  feet 
As  a  greyhound  iu  leash. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Is  that  the  truth, 
Francesca? 

Francesca. 
I  was  weary  of  my  rooms 
And  of  my  whinipering  women.     And  of  a  truth 
I  had  rather  look,  my  lord,  on  open  war 
Than  feed  fear  closeted. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Daughter  of  Guido, 
Your  father's  seal  is  on  you.     May  God  make 

you 
Fruitful  to  me,  that  you  may  give  mo  many 
And  many  a  lion's  cub! 

[Fkancesca  knits  her  brow.] 
Paolo,  you  have  not  drvuik! 
Drink,  you  are  pale,     Pour  out  a  cup  for  him, 
My  woman  warrior,  full,  and  drink  a  draught. 
He  shot  a  splendid  bolt. 


104  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Paolo. 
,  Do  you  know,  Gianciotto, 

Who  lifted  up  the  window  while  I  shot? 
She!    In  her  hand  she  held  the  little  cord 
That  lifts  it,  like  the  children  of  our  soldiers; 
And  steady  was  her  hand  and  firm  her  eye. 

Gianciotto. 
Why,  come  then,  come,  my  lady,  and  make  war 
Among  the  castles!    I  will  make  for  you 
A  breastplate  of  fine  gold,  and  you  shall  go 
Riding  with  sword  and  spear. 
Like  the  brave  Countess  Aldruda  di  Bertinoro, 
When  she  went  out  to  fight  with  Marchesella 
Against  the  Councillor  of  Magonza.     Ah ! 
You   have   been   apart  from  me  too  long,  dear 

lady. 
Now  with  that  dark  band  underneath  your  chin 
And  round  your  neck,  you  seem  to  wear  a  gor- 
get: 
It  gives  you  a  wild  sort  of  grace.     True,  eh, 
Paozzo?    But  you  have  not  yet  drunk!    Drink, 

now. 
Drink,  you   are   pale.     You  have   worked  well. 

This  night 
We  shall  not  sleep,  two  in  our  beds.    So,  lady, 
Pour  out  the  wine. 

Fbancesca. 
See,  I  am  pouring  it. 

Gianciotto. 
It  is  almost  dark  here;  one  can  hardly  see; 
You  might  have  spilt  it. 


FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  105 

Francesca. 
Drink,  my  lord  and  kinsman, 
Out  of  the  cup  in  -niiich  your  brother  drank. 
God  give  you  both  good  fortune, 
Each  as  the  other,  and  alike  to  me! 
[Paolo  drinks,  looking  straight  into  Fkancesca's 
eyes.  ] 

Gianciotto. 
Good  fortune,  Paolo, 
I  had  begun  to  tell  you,  and  I  stopped ; 
I  have  happy  tidings  for  you.     In  the  hour 
Of  victory  there  came  to  our  good  father 
Envoys  from  Florence,  saying  you  are  elected 
The  Captain  of  the  People  and  the  Commune 
Of  Florence. 

Paolo. 
Envoys  came! 
Gianciotto. 

Why,  yes.     You  are  sorry  ? 

Paolo. 
No,  I  will  go. 
[Fbancesca  turns  her  face  to  the  shadow  and  moves 
a  few  steps  nearer  the  tower.     The  Slave  retires 
to  one  side  and  stands  motionless.  ] 

Gianciotto. 
You  must  go  within  three  days. 
You  will  have  time  to  go  to  Ghiaggiolo 
To  your  Orabile,  who  is  used  l)y  now 
To  being  a  widow.     And  from  there  you  will  go 
To  the  city  of  gay  living  that  lias  thriven 
Under  the  guidance  of  Uw.  joyous  friars, 
Full  of  fat  merchants,  and  of  merry-makers, 


106  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI. 

And  gentry  of  the  Court,  and  there  the  tables 
Are  spread  botli   niglit   and  morning,  and  they 

dance  there 
And  sing  tliere,  and   you   can  sport  to  heart's 

content. 

[Uis  face  clouds  over    and  he   becomes  bitter 
ayain.] 
We  will  stay  here  and  set  the  trap  for  wolves 
And  slit   the   throats   of   lambkins.     Iron  shall 

knock 
On  iron  for  the  i)leasure  of  our  ears, 
Sardinian  rod  and  hatchet  of  Orezzo 
On  bolt  with  rounded  edge,  morning  and  night 
And   night  and   morning.     Here   then  we    will 

wait 
Till  in  some  escalade  another  stone 
Fracture  another  knee.     And  then,  why,  then, 
Giovanni,  the  old  Lamester,  Gianni  Ciotto, 
Shall  have  himself  tied  tightly  on  the  back 
Of  a  stallion  with  the  staggers,  and  so  slung 
Xeck  and  crop  ravaging  down  the  ways  of  hell. 
[Fbancesca  moves  restlessly  to  and  fro  in  the 
shadow,     Through  the   archway  is  seen  the 
evening  sky  reddened  by  the  flames]. 

Paolo. 
Giovanni,  are  you  angry  with  me? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

No, 
Did  you  not  split  the  tongue  of  him  who  cried 
His  jests  against  me?    "  At  him !    At  him  !    Ha! 
The  Lamester  with  the  lovely  wife!  "  cried  out 
Ugolino  as  he  rode.    His  voice  was  loud : 


FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  107 

Did  it  reach  you  at  the  window?     I  was  there, 
Eye  upon  eye,  aud  stirrup  against  stirrup, 
When  your  good  shaft  went  straight 
Into  his  snarling  mouth, 

And  through,  and  out  the  back  way  of  the  head. 
And  yet  you  miglit  have  missed. 
I  felt  the  feathers  of  the  arrow-shaft 
Whistle  against  my  face.      You    might   have 
missed. 

Paolo. 
But  since  I  did  not  miss,  why  think  of  it? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

It  is  your  way  to  run  these  sorts  of  risks. 
At  Florence  be  more  cautious.     You  are  going 
To  a  hard  post.     Have  sharp  and  rapid  sight 
But  also  prudent  hand. 

Paolo. 

Since  you  advise  me, 
Does  it  not  seem  to  you,  l)rother,  as  if 
'Twere  wiser  let  it  go?    We  shall  have  need 
Of  all  our  forces  here.     The  year  is  turnina 
Not  over  fortunately  for  the  Guelfs, 
Since  the  defeat  of  that  Giovanni  d'Appia 
And  the  rebellion  since  in  Sicily, 
In  favour  of  the  Angevins. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Wo  must  needs 
Accept,  and  that  without  delay.     You  now 
Shall  be  the  keeper  of  the  peace  where  once 
Our  mighty  father  was  the  (iovernor 
Under  King   Charles,    in   tlie   one   great   Guclf 
city 


108  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

That  prospers  still.     And  so  beyond  the  bounds 

Of  our  Eomagna  shall  the  name  of  us 

Sound  high  and  spread  abroad;  and  each  of  us 

Shall  follow  where  his  rising  star  leads  on. 

I  go  my  way,  my  sword  has  eyes  for  me; 

My  horse  has  not  yet  stumbled  under  me. 

[While  he  sjwaks,  Malatestino  is  brought, 
wounded,  doion  the  stairs  of  the  tower,  be- 
tween lighted  torches,  like  a  corpse.  The 
shadow  groios  darker]. 

Fkancesca 
[From  the  back]. 
O,  what  is  this?    Horror!    Do  you  not  see 
Malatestino,  there,  Malatestino, 
The  soldiers  carrying  him  in  their  arms 
Between   the   torches?      They   have   killed   his 
father ! 
Sheruns  toivards  the  Men,  who  are  coming  down 
the    side    stairs,   and  passing   through  the 
midst  of  the  archers,  who  leave  off  their  work 
and  make  way  in  silence.     Gianciotto  and 
Paolo  run  forward.      Oddo  Dalle  Cami- 
NATE  and  FoscoloD'Olnano  are  carrying 
the  bleeding  Youth.     Four  Archers  loith 
long  quivers  accompany  them  with  torches. 

Francesca 
[Bending  over  the  Youth]. 

Malatestino!    O  God, 
His  eye  is  black  with  blood. 
His  eye  is  cut  and  torn.     How  have  they  killed 
him? 


FBAXCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  109 

O,  has  liis  father  seen  it?     Does  he  know? 

[GiANCiOTTO/eeis  over  his  body  and  listens  to 
his  heart.  \ 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Francesca,  no,  he  is  not  dead!    He  breathes, 

His  heart  is  beatuig  still.     Do  you  not  see? 

He  is  coming   to.     The    blow   has   struck   him 

senseless; 
But  he  is  coming  to. 

The  life  is  sound  in  him;  he  has  good  teeth 
To  keep  it  back  from  going.     Courage,  now! 
Set  him  down  gently  hei-e,  here  on  this  heap 
Of  ropes. 
[As  the   Bearers  are  settvuj  him  down,   the 
Youth  begins  to  revive.] 

Oddo,  how  was  it? 
Oddo. 

From  a  stone 
While  they  were  scaling  the  Galassa  tower. 

FOSCOLO. 

All  by  himself  he  had  made  prisoner 

Montagna  Parcitade, 

And  bound  him  with  his  sword-belt,  and  led  him 

back 
To  Messer  Malatesta;  and  returned 
To  take  the  Tower. 

Oddo. 

Just  as  he  was,  without 
A  visor  to  his  helmet,  heedlessly: 
You  know  how  hot  he  is! 

FoHCor.o. 

And  ho  was  angry 


110  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Because  his  father  would  not  suffer  him 
To  cut  the  prisoner's  throat. 

[Francesca  poiirs  a  few  drops  of  wine  between 
the  lips  of  the  Youth.  Faolo  follows  every 
movement  greedily  with  his  e^es.] 

GlANCIOTTO 

{Looking  at  the  wound], 
A  stone  out  of  the  hand;     not  from  a  sling. 
Come,  it  is  nothing. 
Lean  as  he  is,  he  needs 
Crow-bar  and  catapult  to  put  him  under. 
This  is  a  heart  of  metal,  a  tough  liver. 
He  bears  the  sign  of  God  now,  as  I  do, 
In  warfare.     He  shall  be 
Named,  from  henceforth,  as  I  am,  by  his  scar. 

[He  kisses  him  on  the  forehead.] 
Malatestino ! 

{The  Youth  shakes  himself  and  recovers  con- 
sciousness.] 

Drink,  Malatestino! 
{He  drinks  some  of  the  wine,  which  Francesca 
puts  to  his  lips.  Then  he  shakes  his  head, 
and  is  about  to  raise  to  his  wounded  left  eye 
the  hand  still  wearing  its  gauntlet.  Fran- 
cesca preisenis  him.] 

Malatestino. 
[As  if  suddenly  awaking,  with  violence]. 
He  will  escape,  I  say.    He  is  not  safe 
In  prison.     I  tell  you  he  will  find  a  way 
To  escape  presently.     Father,  give  me  leave 
To  cut  his  throat!    I  took  him  for  you!   Father, 


FRAXCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  Ill 

Dear  Fathei-,  let  me  kill  him.     I  am  sure 
He  will  find  a  way  to  escape  presently. 
He  is  an  evil  one.    Well,  you  then,  give  him 
One  hammer-stroke  upon  the  head;  one  blow, 
And  he  will  turn  upon  himself  three  times. 

Francesco. 
Malatestino,  what  do  you  see?    You  are  raving, 
Wliat  do  you  see,  Malatestino? 

Oddo. 

Still 
He  is  raging  at  Montagna. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Malatestino,  do  you  not  know  me?     See, 
You  are  on  the  Mastra  Tower. 
Montagna  is  in  good  clutches.     Be  assured 
He  will  not  run  away  from  you. 
Mai.atestino. 

Giovanni, 
Where  am  I?     O  Francesca,  and  you  too? 
[He  again  raises  his  hand  to  his  eye.] 
What  is  the  matter  with  my  eye? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

A  stone 
That  caught  you  in  it. 

Fkancesca. 

Are  you  suffering  much? 
[The  Youth  rises  to  his  feet  and  shakes  his  head.] 

Malate.stino. 
The     stone-throw      of     a     Ghibelline     camp- 
follower 
To  make  me  suffer? 
Come,  come,  there's  no  use  now 


112  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Xo  time  to  weave  new  lineu  with  old  thread. 
Put  on  a  bandage,  quick, 
Give  me  to  drink,  and  then 
To  horse,  to  horse  ! 
[Fbancesca  takes  off  the  band  that  surrounds 
her  chin  and  throat.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Can  you  see? 

Malatestino. 
One's  enough  for  me. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Try  now 
If  the  left  one  is  lost. 
[He  takes  a  torch  from  one  of  the  Akchers.] 
Close  your  right  eye.     Francesca, 
Put  your  hand  over  it.     He  has  his  gauntlet. 
[She  closes  his  eyelid  with  her  fingers.     GiANCi- 
OTTO  puts  the  torch  before  his  face.] 
Look!    Do  you  see  this  torch? 
Malatestino. 
No. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Not  a  glimmer? 
Malatestino. 
No,  no! 
[He  takes  Francesca's  ivrist  and  pushes  it  away.] 
But  I  can  see  with  one. 

Archer 
[Excited  by  the  Youth's  courage]. 

Long  live 
Messer  Malatestino !    Malatesta! 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  113 

Malatestino. 
To  horse,  to  horse ! 

Giovanni,  though  the  day  is  won,  yet,  yet. 
Is  not  old  Parcitade  living  still. 
And  waiting  reinforcements?    We  must  not 
Be  blinded.    Oddo,  Foscolo,  the  best 
Is  still  to  have. 

GlANCIOTTO 

[turning  to  the  Archers]. 

The  cask !  is  the  cask  ready? 
[He  goes  towards  the  tower,  to  direct  the  opera- 
ations  of  the  catapult.] 

Oddo. 

You  will  fall  half-way  there. 

Francesca. 

Stay,  Malatestino, 
Do  not  go  back  into  the  fight!    Stay  here. 
And  I  will  bathe  and  heal  you.     Run,  Smaragdi, 
Prepare  the  water  and  the  linen;  send 
For  Maestro  Almodoro. 

Malatestixo. 
Xo,  kinswoman, 
Put  on  a  bandage,  quick. 
And  let  me  go.     I  will  come  back  again 
To  find  the  doctor:  bid  the  doctor  wait. 
I  feel  no  pain  at  all. 

But  bandage  me,  I  beg  of  j'ou,  kinswoman. 
With  the   band   that  you  have  taken   otT  your 
face. 

Francesca. 

I  will  do  tlie  best  I  can  for  you,  Go<l  knows, 


114  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

But  it  will  not  be  well  done. 
[She  binds  up  his  eye.     He  observes  Paolo,  ivho 
has  not  taken  his  eyes  off  Fkancesca.1 
Malatestixo. 

O,  Paozzo, 
What  are  you  doing  there?     dreaming? 
Francesca. 

'Twill  not 
Je  well  done. 

Mal,ax,estino. 
You  have  been  elected  Captain 
Of  the    People    at  Florence.      When  I  haled 

Montagna 
Up  to  our  father,  bound,  I  saw  the  envoys, 
The  Guelfs  of  the  Red  Lily, 
Who  were  with  him  then. 

[A  guttural  cry  is  heard  as  the  Men  raise  the 
cask  upon  the  catapult.     Above  the  battle- 
ments the  glow  of  the  fire  spreads  over  the 
sky.     The  bells  ring  in  all  directions.     Trum- 
pets are  heard.  ] 
They  have  shut  up  Montagna 
In  the  sea  prison.     He  will  get  away. 
I  begged  my  father,  I  begged  him,  on  my  knees, 
To  let  me  finish. 
The  envoys  smiled.      My  father   would  not  let 

me. 
Because  of  them,  I  know. 
To  seem  magnanimous.    Another  night 
Montagna  must  not  spend  here.    Will  you  help 

me? 
Come  to  the  prison !  Have  you  done,  kinswoman? 
But  do  not  tremble. 


FEANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  115 

Fbancesca 
[Tying  the  knot]. 
Yes,  yes,  but  it  is  not  well  done.     Your  forehead 
Is  burning.     You  are  feverish.     Do  not  go,  . 
Malatestiuo.     Listen  to  me.     Stay, 
For  God's  sake! 

GlANCIOTTO 

[On  the  toioer]. 
Heave  it !    Let  it  go ! 
[The  noise  of  the  catapult  is  heard  as  it  discharges 
the  cask  with  its  lighted  fuses] 

Aecher. 

Long  life 
To  Malatesta!    Long  life  to  the  Guelfs! 
Death  to  the  Ghibellines  and  Parcitade! 

Malatestino 

[turning  and  running  foitoard] . 
To  horse !  to  horse !  to  horse ! 

[Oddo,  Foscolo,  and  the  Archers  loith  their 
torches  follov}  him.] 

[The  stage  darkens.  The  reflection  of  the  fire 
reddens  the  shadow  in  which  Paolo  and 
Fbancesca  remain  alone.] 

Paolo. 
Farewell,  Francesca. 
[As  he  approaches  her,  she  draws  back  with  terror.] 

GlANCIOTTO 

I  From  the  tower], 
Paolo!    Paolo! 


116  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Francesca. 

Brother,  farewell !    Brother! 

[Paolo  goes  towards  the  Tower,  from  which  the 
aery  staves  are  again  being  thrown.  Fran- 
CESCA,  left  alone  in  the  shadoiv,  makes  the 
sign  of  the  cross  and  falls  on  her  knees, 
bowing  herself  to  the  ground.  At  the  back  a 
still  brighter  illumination  lights  up  the  sky.] 
Archer. 
Fire!    fire!      Death  to   the  Ghibellines!     Fire! 

Death 
To  Parcitade  and  the  Ghibellines! 
Long  live  the  Guelfs  and  long  live  Malatesta! 
[The  fiery  shafts  are  let  fly  through  th.  battle- 
ments.    The    bells   ring   in   all    aireciions. 
The   trumj>ets  sound  in  the  miasv  of  cries 
rising  from  the  streets  of  the  burning  and 
blood-stained  city.] 


ACT  III. 

A  room  painted  in  fresco,  elegantly  divided  into 
panels,  portraying  stories  out  of  the  romance  of 
Tristan,  between  birds,  beasts,  flowers,  and  fruits. 
Under  the  moulding,  around  the  walls,  runs  a 
frieze  in  the  form  of  festoons,  on  which  are 
written  some  words  from  a  love-song: 
^^  Meglio  7n'e  dormire  gaudenJo 
C'avere  penzieri  veghiando." 

On  the  right  is  a  beautiful  alcove  hidden  by  rich 
curtains  ;  on  the  left  a  doorway  covered  by 
a  heavy  hanging ;  at  the  back  a  long  loindow 
with  many  panes,  divided  by  little  columns, 
looking  out  on  the  Adriatic;  a  pot  of  basil 
is  on  the  loindow-sill.  Near  the  door,  raised 
two  feet  above  the  fioor,  is  a  musicians'  gallery, 
with  compartments  decorated  with  open  carv- 
ings. Near  the  window  is  a  reading  desk,  on 
which  is  open  "  The  History  of  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake,^^  composed  of  large  illuminated 
pages,  firmly  bound  together  by  thin  boards 
covered  in  crimson  velvet.  Besides  it  is  a 
couch,  a  sort  of  long  chair  without  hack  or 
arms,  viith  many  cushions  of  samite,  almost 
on  the  level  of  the  window-sill,  on  which  any 
one  leaning  back  can  see  over  the  whole  sea- 
shore of  Rimini.     A   chamber  organ  of  small 


lis  FRANCESCA  DA  RtMINt. 

size,  with  chest,  pipes,  keys,  bellows,  and  reg- 
isters finely  loorked,  stands  in  the  corner,  a 
lute  and  a  viol  beside  it.  On  a  small  table 
is  a  silver  mirror,  amongst  scent-bottles,  glasses, 
purses,  girdles,  and  other  trinkets.  Large  iron 
candlesticks  stand  beside  the  alcove  and  the 
musicians^  gallery.  Footstools  are  scattered 
about,  and  in  the  7nidst  of  the  Jloor  is  seen  the 
bolt  of  a  trap-door,  through  which  a  passage 
leads  to  the  lower  rooms. 
|Francesca  is  reading  in  the  book.  The  Women, 
seated  on  the  footstools  in  a  circle,  embroidering 
the  border  of  a  coverlet,  listen  to  the  story ; 
each  of  them  has  a  little  phial  of  seed  pearls 
and  gold  threads  hanging  from  her  girdle. 
The  March  sunlight  beats  on  the  crimson  taffeta, 
and  sheds  a  diffused  light  on  the  faces  bent 
over  the  needlework.  The  Slave  is  near  the 
window-sill,  gazing  into  the  sky.] 

Francesca 
[reading]. 
"  Thereat  Galeotto  comes  to  her  and  says  : 
'Lady,  have  pity  on  him,  for  God's  sake, 
And  do  for  me  as  I  would  do  for  you, 
If  you  should  ask  it  of  me.'     '  What  is  this 
That  I  should  pity  ?'      '  Lady,  you  well  know 
How  much  he  loves  you,  and  has  done  for  you, 
More  than  knight  ever  did  for  any  lady.' 
'  In  truth  he  has  done  more  for  me  than  I 
Can  ever  do  for  him  again,  and  he 
Could  ask  of  me  nothing  I  would  not  do  ; 
But  he  asks  nothing  of  me,  and  he  has 


FRANCE SC A  DA  RIMINI.  119 

So  deep  a  sadness,  tbat  I  marvel  at  it." 
And  Galeotto  saj's:   '  Lady,  have  pity.' 
'  That  will  I  have,'  says  she,  '  and  even  such 
As  you  would  have  me ;  but  he  asks  of  me 
Nothing.  .  .'  " 

[The  Women  laugh.  Fbancesca  throios  her- 
self back  on  the  cushions,  troubled  and  ener- 
vated.] 

Garsenda. 
Madonna, 
How  ever  could  a  knight,  and  Launcelot, 
Have  been  so  shamefaced? 

Alda. 

All  the  while  the  queen, 
The  poor  queen,  only  longing  she  might  give 
Her  lover  what  he  would  not  ask  of  her! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

She  should  have   said   to   him:    '*  Most  worthy 

kuight, 
Your  sadness  will  avail  you  not  a  mite." 

AhTICniARA. 

Guenevere  did  but  jest  with  him,  and  chose 
To  wait  her  time;  but  nothing  in  the  world 
Was  in  her  mind  more  than  a  speedy  bed. 

AUONELLA. 

And  Galeotto,  thougli  indeed  be  was 

A  noble  prince,  knew  well  enough  the  art 

That  is  called — 

Fkancesca. 

Adonella,  hnsbl    I  tire 


120  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Of  listening  to  your  chattering  so  long. 
Smaragdi,  tell  me,  is  the  falcon  back? 

Slave. 
No,  lady;  he  has  lost  his  way. 

Francesca. 

Do  you  hear 
His  little  golden  bell? 

Slave. 

I  cannot  hear  it. 
My  eyes  are  good,  and  yet  I  cannot  see  him. 
He  has  flown  too  high. 

[Francesca  turns  to  theivindow  and  gazes  out.] 

Alda. 

He  will  be  lost,  Madonna. 
It  was  not  well  to  let  him  out  of  leash. 
He  was  a  little  haughty. 

Garsenda. 

He  was  one 
They  call  the  Yentimillia  breed,  brave  birds; 
This  one  had  thirteen  feathers  in  his  tail. 

Altichiara. 
Their  home  is  on  an  island; 
He  will  have  flown  back  to  his  island  home, 

Biancofiore. 
He  followed  cranes,  was  good  at  catching  them; 
And  Simonetto  begs  of  you,  Madonna, 
That  he  may  have  a  crane,  to  make  two  fifes 
Of  the  two  leg-bones,  and  he  says  they  sound 
Sweetly  as  might  be. 


FRANCESCA  DA  BUIINI.  121 

Garsenda. 
No, 
He  is  not  coming  back;  he  was  too  proud; 
Ah,  like  the  one  who  gave  him  to  you,  Messer 
Malatestino,  I  would  say:  may  he 
Not  hear  me !     If  you  had  but  rubbed  his  beak, 
At  dead  of  night, 
With  horse's  belly-grease, 

He  would  have  come  to  love  you  so,  Madonna, 
He  never  would  have  flown  out  of  your  hand. 

{The  Women  burst  out  laughing.] 

AOONELLA. 

Now  listen  to  the  learned  doctoress ! 

Alticuiara. 
At  dead  of  night  with  horse's  belly-grease! 

Gaiisexda. 
Why,  yes,   I  have  read   the  book  that  Danchi 

wrote. 
The  first  and  best  master  of  falconry; 
It  gives  you  all  the  rules. 

Francesca. 

Go,  Adonella, 
Run  to  the   falconer,  tell    him    wliat   has   hap- 
pened. 
And  bid  him  go  with  his  decoy,  and  call 
And  search  all  over.    He  has  flown,  perhaps, 
Up  to  some  tower,  and  perched  there.     Bid  him 

go 
And  search  all  over. 
I  Ado.nklka  drops  her  needle  and  hurries  out.] 


122  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Altichiara. 

He  has  fled  away, 
Madonna,  after  the  first  swallows. 

Alda. 

See, 
The  blood  of  all  the  swallows 
Is  raining  on  the  sea. 

BlANCOFIOBE 
[singing]. 
*'  Fresh  in  the  Calends  of  March, 
O  swallows,  coming  home, 
Fresh  from  the  quiet  lands  beyond  the  sea." 

Fbancesca. 
O,  yes,  yes,  Biancofiore ! 
Some  music,  give  me  music! 
Sing  over  a  low  song 
In  the  minor  key! 
Leave  oif  your  sewing,  go 
And  bring  me  music. 
[The  Women  rise  quickly  and/old  up  the  taffeta.] 

Look 
For  Simonetto,  Biancofiore. 

Biancofiore. 

Yes, 

Madonna. 

Francesca. 
And  you,  Alda,  look  for  Bordo 
And  Signorello  and  Kosso, 

And  bid  them  come  and  bring  the  instruments 
And  bring  the  tablature 
For  maKing  music  in  the  room  here. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  123 

Alba. 

Yes, 
Madonna. 

FUANCESCA. 

Alticbiara,  if  you  see 
The  doctor,  send  him  to  me. 
Altichiaka. 

Yes,  Madonna. 
Francesca. 
And  you,  Garsenda,  if  you  come  across 
The  merchant  who  is  here  from  Florence   bid 

him 
Come  hither. 

Garsenda. 
Yes,  Madonna,  I  will  seek  him. 
Francesca. 
Bring  me  a  garland  of  March  violets* 
To-day  'tis  the  March  calends. 
Biancofiore. 
Madonna,  you  shall  have  one,  and  a  fair  one. 
[All  go  out.] 
[Francesca  turns  to  the  Slave,  who  is  still 
gazing  into  the  sky]. 

Francesca. 
O  Sraaragdi,  ho  is  not  coming  back? 

Slave. 
He  is  not  coming  back. 
The  falconer  will  bring  him  back  again. 
Do  not  be  troubled. 

Francesca. 
But  I  am  troubled,  yes;  Malatestino 


124  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Will  be  enraged  with  me,  because  I  have  kept 
His  gifts  so  ill.    He  tells  me  that  he  gave  me 
The  king  of  falcons.    I  have  lost  it. 
Slave. 

Wild 
And  thankless  and  unkind,  if  so  it  flies 
From  the  face  of  man. 

[Fkancesca  is  silent  for  a  feio  instants.] 
Fbancesca. 

I  am  afraid  of  him. 

Slave. 
Afraid  of  whom,  lady? 

Francesca. 
I  am  afraid 
Of  Malatestino. 

Slave. 

Is  it  his  blind  eye 
That  frightens  you? 

Fbancesca. 
No,  no,  the  other  one, 
The  one  he  sees  with :  it  is  terrible. 

Slave. 
Let  him  not  see  you,  lady. 

Fbancesca. 
Ah,  Smaragdi,  what  was  the  wine  you  brought 
That  night,  upon  the  Mastra  tower,  when  all 
The  city  was  in  arms.'    Was  it  bewitched? 

Slave. 
Lady,  what  are  you  saying? 

Fbancesca. 
It  is  as  if  you  brought  me  a  drugged  wine ; 


FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI.  125 

The  poison  is  takiug  hold 

Upon  the  veins  of  her  that  drank  of  it, 

And  all  iny  fate  grows  cruel  to  me  again. 

Slave. 
What  is  this  sadness,  lady? 
Although  the  falcon  has  not  yet  come  back, 
He  has  come  back  to  you, 
Lady,  who  is  the  sun  that  your  soul  loves. 
Francesca 
[turning  pale,    and    speaking   with    repressed 
anger]. 
Unhappy  woman! 

How  do  you  dare  to  speak  it?    Treachery 
Even  in  you?    Accursed  be  the  hour 
In  which  you  brought  him  to  me,  and  his  fraud 
With  him !    Was  it  not  you 
Who  made  the  way  that  leads  me  to  my  death? 
Three  cups  of  bitterness  I  do  not  leave  you; 
It  is  you  that  set  them  down  before  me,  you 
That  brim  them  up  each  day,  without  a  tear. 
[The  Si.WK  flings  herself  on  the  ground.  \ 

Slave. 
Tread  on  me,  tread  on  me!    Between  two  stones 
Crush  in  my  head ! 

FI4ANCESCA 

\More  calmli/]. 

Rise  up, 
It  is  no  fault  of  yours,  my  poor  Smaragdi, 
It  is  no  fault  of  yours. 
Suddenly  like  a  spirit  of  my  heart 
You  ran  to  meet  my  joy!     On  your  eyes  too 
There  was  a  veil;  and  veiled  by  the  same  fate 


126  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Was  the  iniquity  of  my  father.     We, 

All  of  us,  were  made  powerless  and  unpitying, 

Wretched  and  ignorant, 

Upon  the  bank  of  a  river, 

Unblamable  all  of  us, 

Upon  the  bank  of  a  loud  rushing  river. 

I  crossed  it,  I  alone, 

I  had  no  thought  of  you; 

I  found  myself  upon  the  other  side. 

And  we  are  thrust  apart. 

Ah  me,  and  never  to  be  one  again. 

And  I  now  say  to  you : 

I  cannot.    And  you  say: 

Cross  and  come  back. 

And  I:  I  do  not  know. 

[She  gives  to  the  last  words  almost  the  cadence 
of  a  melody;  then  she  laughs  a  dry  and  bitter 
laugh,  which  seems  as  if  torn  out  of  her. 
But  the  sound  of  her  own  laughter  fright- 
ens her.     The  Slave  stands  trembling.] 

0  my  poor  reason,  rule 
Still,  do  not  turn  away! 

What  is  this  demon  that  has  hold  on  me? 
The  enemy  was  laughing  in  my  heart: 
Did  you  not  hear  him? 

1  cannot  pi"ay  now,  I  can  pray  no  longer. 

Slave 
[In  a  low  voice]. 
Shall  I  not  call  him? 

Fbancesca 
[Starting]. 

Who? 


VkANC^SCA  DA  BIMtNl.  127 

[Site  looks  ahont  her  anxiously:  her  eye  turns  to 
the  motionless  curtain  over   the  door.     Iler 
craving  overcomes   her,  her    voice    sounds 
hoarse.  \ 
Smaragdi,  did  you  see  Messer  Giovanni 
Take  horse? 

Slave. 
Yes,  lady,  with  the  old  man  too, 
With  Messer  Malatesta,  the  old  man. 
They  are  going  surely  to  an  act  of  peace 
With  the  Lord  Bishop.     They  are  riding  now 
By  Saut'  Arcangelo 

Francesca 
[darkly]. 
You  watch,  Smaragdi;  you  see  all,  hear  all, 
Know  all;  well,  be  so  always. 

Slave. 

Doubt  me  not, 
Lady.    Sleep  safe  and  sound.    Could  I  but  give 

you 
Joy,  as  the  stone  whose  name  I  bear  could  give 
you! 

Fr.\ncesca. 
And  do  you  know  where  Malatestino  is? 

Slave. 
At  Roncofrcddo,  sent  there  by  his  father 
With  thirty  horse. 

Francesca. 

I  am  afraid  of  him. 
Keep  him  away  from  me. 


las  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Slave. 

But  why  so,  lady? 
When  he  was  sick,  did  you  not  care  for  him, 
Day  and  night,  like  a  sister? 
Francesca. 

O,  that  name 
Is  like  a  poison  here.     Samaritana, 
Where  are  you?  and  the  stream  of  your  young 

freshness, 
Where  does  it  run,  that  now  can  never  slake 
My  thirst  when  1  am  nigh  to  perishing? 
I  see  about  me,  in  the  shadow  about  me. 
Eyes,  savage  eyes,  that  spy  on  me,  the  eyes 
Of  wild  beasts  only  waiting  to  take  hold 
And  fight  over  their  prey; 
And     they   are    all    veined   with   the   selfsame 

blood. 
They  are  all  brothers; 
One   mother  gave   them  birth.     Ah   me!  what 

sad 
Sorcery  have  I  suffered?    Who  has  set 
Thus, thus,  upon  the  threshold  of  my  life 
This  mortal  sin?    You,  creature  of  the  earth, 
Who  dig  about  the  roots  of  poisonous  flowers, 
Say,  where  was  this  unnatural  evil  born? 
It  is  from  you  I  know 
The  old  hard  song: 
"If  three    I    find,  three  I  take!"     Now  tbf 

demon 
Has  taken  them  all  together,  three  has  taken. 
And  me  with  them. 

Slave. 
Call  not  upon  the  enemy! 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  129 

Be  it  forgiven  to  you,  body  and  soul! 

You  are  deceived  in  tliis. 

The  shadow  is  a  glass  to  you,  and  therein 

You  see  your  own  eyes  burn. 

Call  not  upon  your  head 

Some  evil  fortune!    May  the  Lord  God  watch 

Over  you  as  your  slave  will  surely  watch! 

Fraxcesca. 
There  is  no  escape,  Smaragdi.      You  have  said 

it: 
The  shadow  is  a  glass  to  me;  and  God 
Lets  me  be  lost.     What  days 
And  nights  I  spent  alone  by  the  bedside 
Of  the  sick  man,  that  I  might  purge  myself 
Of  evil  thoughts  that  faded,  faded  out. 
I  touched  the  horrible  wound, 
Praying;  I  washed  away 

That  evil  foulness  with  my  prayers.     And  then 
My  soul,  amid  that  horror,  seemed  to  see 
Grace  and  salvation;  then  it  was  I  found 
The  beast  desire  that  wakened  in  the  veins 
Of  that  too  violent  life.     Do  you  understand? 
The  gaping  wound  under  the  forehead  closed 
And  another  opened,  far  more  horrible, 
Within  the  breast.     And  thoughts 
That    had     faded     out,     ray     old    despairing 

thoughts. 
Seemed  to  infect  me  with  a  blacker  veuom, 
More  cruelly;  and  my  flesh 
Upon  my  sorrow  like  a  covering 
Intolerable; 

And  exiled  from  the  world 
All  the  sweet  things  of  springtide  and  of  sleep; 


130         fhancesca  da  eimini. 

And  the  vei-y  face  of  love 

Turned  into  stone,  and  turned 

To  a  terror;  only  hatred  and  desire, 

Bewildered  in  the  darkness  of  the  world, 

And  reeling  blindly  in  their  work  of  death, 

Like  drunken  slaughterers, 

That,  full  of  wine 

And  fury,  slay  each  other  witlessly. 

Slave 
[in  a  low  voice]. 
Do  not  despair!    Listen,  listen !    I  know 
A  spell  to  cast  on  him  who  makes  you  fear; 
I  know    a    drink    that  drives  these  thoughts 

away 
And    cures    remembrance.      You  must  give  it 

him 
With  the  left  hand 

When  he  dismounts  wearied  and  hungering. 
I  will  teach  you  how  to  say  the  spell. 
Fkancesca, 

Smaragdi, 
If  it  avails  at  all,  give  it  to  me, 
And  let  me  drink  it,  and  be  free  again. 
But  there  is  no  escape.     Will  you  interpret 
The  dream  I  always  dream. 
Night  after  night? 

Slave. 

Lady,  tell  me  the  dream; 
I  will  interpret  it, 

Francesca. 
Night  after  night  I  see  the  savage  hunt 
Nastagio  degli  Onesti  saw  one  day 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  131 

In  the  pine-wood  of  Ravenna,  as  I  heard 

Bannino  tell  the  story  when  we  went 

Down  to  the  shore  at  Chiassi.     In  my  dream 

I  see  it  as  it  was  in  very  truth. 

A  naked  woman,  through  the    depth    of   the 

wood, 
Dishevelled,  torn  by  branches  and  by  thorns. 
Weeping  and  crying  for  mercy, 
Euns,  followed  by  two  mastiffs  at  her  heels 
That  bite  her  cruelly  when  they  overtake  her; 
See,  and  behind  her  through  the  depth  of  the 

wood. 
Mounted  on  a  black  charger, 
A  dark  knight,  strong  and  angry  in  the  face. 
Sword  in  baud,  threatening  her 
With  a  swift  death  in  terrifying  words. 
Then  the  dogs,  taking  hold 
Of  the  woman's  naked  side, 
Stop  her;  and  the  fierce  knight,  coming  abreast, 
Dismounts  from  off  his  horse, 
And  with  his  sword  in  hand 
Runs  at  the  woman  so, 

And  she,  upon  her  knees,  pinned  to  the  earth 
By  the  two  mastiffs,  cries  to  him  for  mercy; 
And  he  thereat  drives  at  her  with  full  strength, 
Pierces  her  in  the  breast 
So  that  the  sword  goes  through  her;  and  she 

falls 
Forward,  upon  her  face. 
Still   always   weeping;    and   the  knight  draws 

fortli 
A  dagger,  and  oijons  her 
By  the  hip-bone,  and  draws 


132  FBANCESCA  DA   BIMINI. 

Her  heart  out,  and  the  rest, 
And  throws  it  to  the  dogs  that  hungrily 
Devour  it  of  a  sudden.     But  she  has  lain 
Not  long  before,  as  if  she  were  not  dead, 
She  rises  up  and  she  begins  again 
Her  lamentable  running  toward  the  sea; 
And  the  two  dogs  after  her,  tearing  her, 
Always,  and  always  after  her  the  knight, 
Upon  his  horse  again. 
And  with  his  sword  in  hand, 
Always  threatening  her. 
Tell  me,  can  you  interpret  me  my  dream, 
Smaragdi? 
[The  Slave,  as  she  listens,   seems    stricken  with 
terror.] 
Are  you  frightened? 
[Gaksenda  enters  followed  by  the  Merchant 
and  his  Boy  carrying  a  pack.] 
Garsenda 
[cjaily]. 
Madonna,  here  is  the  merchant  with  his  goods. 
May  he  come  in?    He  is  the  Florentine, 
Who  came  to  Rimino  yesterday  with  the  escort 
Of  Messer  Paolo. 

[Francesca,  her  face  suddenly  flushing,  shakes 
off  her  gloomy  thoughts,  and  seems  eager  to 
seek  forgetfulness  of  her  mortal  anguish  ;  but 
a  kind  of  painful  tension  accompanies  her 
volubility.] 

Francesca. 
Come  in,  come  in,  we  are  minded  to  renew 
Our  robes  with  the  new  season. 


FRANCESCA  DA    EIMINI.  133 

Come  in,  come  in.    I  would  have  something  made 

Of  sarcenet  woven  of  many  coloured  threads, 

Of  many  colours,  of  a  hundred  colours, 

So  that  at  each  turn  and  return  of  light 

And  of  sight  the  aspect  changes  ;  O  Smaragdi, 

A  raiment  of  pure  joy! 

[The  Merchant  inclines  huinhly.] 

Good  merchant,  what  have  you  to  offer  me? 
Merchant. 

Noble  Madonna,  everything  that  suits 

With  your  nobility  ;  light  taffetas, 

Highly  embroidered,  circlet  upon  circlet, 

Sarcenet,  samite,  and  damask, 

Grogram  and  bombasin. 

Camlet,  barracan,  fustian, 

Serge,  Neopolitau  doublets, 

Sicilian  tunics, 

Watered  silk,  high  or  low,  watered  with  gold 

And  silver  thread,  and  waved  ; 

Linen  of  Lucca,  Osta,  Dondiscarte, 

Of  Bruges,  of  Tournai,  and  of  Terremonde, 

And  of  Mostavolieri  in  Normandy, 

Fine  serge  from  C'onio,  changeable  taffeta, 

Cloth  of  silk  worked  in  trees  and  squares  and 
eyelets 

And  patterns  toothed  and  fish-boned. 

Velvets  of  every  sort 

And  every  make, 

Velvets  one  piled,  and  two  piled,  and  three  piled. 
[Garsenda  burHls  out  Idiiijhiti;/.] 
Francksca 

Enough!  enough!     And  have  you  found  a  ware- 
house 

III  Wiiiiiiio  for  s(j  many  goods? 

• .     »  1  -  ,|P 


134        jfhancesca  da  iumini. 

Merchant. 

I  am 

Giotto  di  Bernavduccio  Boninsegni, 
The  agent  of  the  Company  of  Piero 
Di  Niccolaio  degli  Oiicellari, 
That  has  its  thousand  samples    in  the    ware- 
houses 
Of  Calimala  and  of  Calimaruzza, 
And  sends  its  agents  over  all  the  west, 
As  far  as  Ireland,  and,  in  the  Levant, 
As  far  as  the  Cattaio,  noble  Madonna. 
[Garsenda  langhs.     The  Merchant  turns  and 
looks  at  her] 

Garsenda. 
A  florin  or  two,  eh? 
You  lent  to  Prester  John, 
(Poor  wretch !)  or  to  the  Khan  of  Babylon. 
[The  Merchant  opens  the  pack  before  Fran- 
CESCA,  who  stands  at  the  reading  desk,  and 
exhibits  his  goods.] 

Merchant. 
We  go  to  Armalecco,  to  buy  vair, 
Sable  and  ermine, 

And  marten-skins,  and  lynx,  and  other  skins  ; 
And  to  buy  woollen  too, 

To  the  monasteries  of  England,  and  to  Chinna, 
To  Bilignass,  Croccostrande,  and  Isticchi, 
To  Diolacresca,  Giiittebi,  and  Bufeltro, 
In  Cornwall. 

[Garsenda  laughs.] 
Garsenda. 

Then  you  saw 
King  Mark  in  Cornwall,  then 


FliAXCESCA  DA   BIMIXL  135 

The  fair-haired  Iseult  bought    brocades  from 

you, 
Sky-coloured,  of  a  surety?    Or  you  carried 
Her'Tristan,  hidden  in  your  pack  of  goods, 
Into  her  chamber? 

Merchant. 

They  say  that  in  Eomagna 
All  fowling,  nay,  all  gulling,  is  permitted  ; 
But  the  blackbird  has  already  crossed  the  stream 
And  his  mate  has  crossed  the  Po  already. 

Gabsenda. 

Shafts 
Of    Florence     make    and    Lombard  :     bastard 

shafts. 
They  neither  shine  nor  sting. 
Because  I  do  uot  know  them. 
[Fkancesca  seems  intent  on  turning  over  the 
stuffs.  ] 

Fr.^ncesca. 

This  is  good, 
Brocade  with  golden  pomegranates.     And  how, 
Giotto,  did  you  come  here  to  Rimino? 

Merchant. 
Noble  Madonna,  full  of  perils  is 
The  life  of  merchants.     Needs  must  be  we  take 
Every  occasion  that  is  offered  us. 
I,  by  good  fortune,  chanced  to  come  upon 
The  escort  of  the  noble  Messer  Paolo, 
And  had  good  leave  to  follow  it  in  safety. 
So  swift  a  journey  may  I  never  make 


136  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Again  ;  with  Messer  Paolo  you  ride 
The  whole  day  louj;,  aud  never  sleep  at  all. 
[FBANCESCA/eeis  over  the  stuffs,  outwardly  calm, 
but  an  unconquerable  smile  burns  in  her  eyes. 
Garsenda  has  gone  down  on  her  knees  to 
see  the  stuffs.  ] 

Francesca. 
You  rode  so  swiftly? 

Merchant. 

Without  rest  or  stay, 
With  tightened  bridles,  if  I  might  so  put  it ; 
And  every  stream  they  forded,  could  not  wait 
Until  the  flood  had  ebbed.     And  Messer  Paolo 
Laboured  his  horse  with  spur  in  such  a  haste 
That  there  was  always  between  him  and  us, 
A  mile  or  so  of  distance.     I  should  say 
He  has  some  urgent  business  here.     He  asked 
The  Commune  leave  of  absence 
After  two  months,  or  little  more,  that  he 
Had  entered  into  oi3&ce  ;  truth  it  is 
That  the  whole  city  sorrows  at  it,  never 
A  more  accustomed  and  more  civil  knight 
Was  Captain  of  the  People  there  in  Florence. 

Francesca. 
I  will  take  this  brocade. 

Merchant. 

Good,  very  good, 
Madonna,    And  Bernardino  della  Porta 
Of  Parma,  they  have  chosen 
To  take  his  place,  is  worth, 
Why  not  so  much  as  one  hair  of  the  head 
Of  Messer  Paolo. 


FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  137 

Francesca. 
And  this  samite  too. 

Merchaxt. 
Madonna,  this  with  patterns  all  of  gold.  .  . 

Francesca. 
Yes,  I  like  this  one  too.    It  seems  to  me 
You  Florentines  keep  feast  on  feast,  and  make 
The  year  a  holiday,  and  care  for  nothing 
Except  for  games  and  sports  and  banquetings 
And  dances. 

Merchant. 
Yes,  Madonna,  'tis  a  sweet 
And  blessed  laud,  our  Florence  :  'tis  the  fiowef 
Of  the  others,  Fiorenza! 

Francesca. 
I  will  take  this  silk  too  with  the  silver  lines. 
And  the  Captain  of  the  People, 
Was  he  well  liked  by  all  the  companies 
Of  knights  and  ladies? 

Merchant. 

Each  rivalled  with  each 
Of  all  tlie  companies 

To  have  his  ])rescuce,  as  the  most  well-spoken 
And  gallant  man  he  indeed  is;  but  he, 
By  what  I  know,  would  hold  himself  apart, 
A  trifle  haughtily,  and  rare  it  was 
To  see  him  at  their  suppers.     And  in  time 
Of  Carnival,  in  Santa  Felicita 
Beyond  the  Arno,  I  know  by  Messer  Betto 
De'Ilossi  that  tlioy  made  a  company, 
A  thousand  men  or  more,  all  dressed  in  white, 
And  Messer  I'aolo  by  this  coin[)any 


138  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI. 

Was  chosen  Lord  of  Love, 
But  he  would  not  consent  .  .  . 
Fbancesca. 

Here,  this  shot  sarcenet 
And  this  buff-coloured  cotton.    You  were  say- 
ing. 
Giotto  .  .  . 

[Garsenda  takes  the  stuffs  selected,  and  puts 
them  aside,  first  holding  them  up  to  the 
light.] 

Merchant. 
I  have  seen  him  sometimes  go  about 
With  Guido  of  the  Messers  Cavalcante 
Dei  Cavalcanti  ;  he  that  is,  they  say, 
One  of  the  best  logicians  in  the  world, 
And  a  most  manifest 
Natural  philosopher, 
And,  as  they  say,  he  seeks, 
Among  the  tombs,  to  find 
There  never  was  a  God. 

Fkancesca. 
Garsenda,  you  may  have  this  violet  samite. 

Garsenda. 
O  Madonna,  much  thanks ! 

Merchant. 
'Tis  a  fine  violet, 
One  of  the  finest  colours  of  the  dye. 

Francesca. 
And  for    you,   Smaragdi?    You    were    saying, 
Giotto  .  .  . 

Merchant. 
Often  he  had  with  him 
Good  singers  and  good  players,  specially 


FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  139 

Casella  da  Pistoia  the  musician, 

A  master  in  the  art  of  singing  songs 

Of  love  .  .  . 

Francesca. 
For  you,  Smaragdi,  you  shall  have 
This  green-brown  serge.     And  Altichiara  too 
And  Biancofiore,  each  of  you  must  have 
A  new  dress. 

Merchant. 
This,  Madonna,  is  a  colour 
Of  the  newest  fashion,  it  is  called  the  seamew, 
A  very  marvel,  with  its  golden  bunches ; 
Mona  Giuglia  degli  Adimari,  the  other  week, 
Bought  from  me  full  ten  yards  of  it.     And  this 
With  the  goose  pattern.    Capon's  foot,  bear's  ear. 
Young  pigeon,  angel's  wing, 
Iris,  corn-flower,  new  colours  .  .  . 
[Francesca  rhes  impetuousbj,  as  if  breaking 
some  consiraiiit.\ 

Francesca. 

Merchant,  leave  it, 
And  I  will  choose  at  leisure. 

[She  (urns  towards  the  window  and  looks  out  on 
the  shining  sea,  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
hand.] 

How  the  sun 
Is  strong,  this  March,  and  fierce! 
There  goes  a  little  ship  with  a  red  sail! 
Here  are  the  swallows  coming  back  in  flocks! 
Garsenda 
[to  the  Merchant!. 
How  long  shall  you  be  staying  in  Rimino? 


140  FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

Merchant. 
Three  days.     And  then  I  have  to  make  my  way 
To  Barletta  and  from  Barletta  I  take  ship 
For  Cyprus. 
[T/te  Slave  lights  up,  hearing  tlie  name  of  her 
country.] 

Gaksenda. 

Listen,  listen, 
Smaragdi  1 

Slave 
[anxiously]. 
Do  you  go  to  Cyprus,  merchant? 

Merchant. 
I  go  there  yearly.     We  have  warehouses 
At  Famagosta,  and  there  yearly  sell 
Thousands    and    tliousands   besants'   worth   of 

goods. 
Are  you  from  Cyprus? 

Slave. 
Salute  for  me  the  Mount  Chionodes, 
His  head  in  snow  and  olives  at  hi.s  feet  ; 
And  drink  for  me  at  the  spring  of  Chitria 
A  draught  for  my  heart's  sake. 
Fkancesca 
[turning]. 
"  And  Cyprus  I  would  make  for, 
And  at  Liraisso  anchor, 
And  land  my  sailors  for  a  kiss,  my  captains 
For  love! " 

[Instruments  and  merry  voices  are  heard  pre' 
luding  while  she  goes  towards  the  bed,  droop- 
ingly,  as  if  to  lie  down  on  it] 


FRANCE SC A  DA   RIMINI.  141 

Slave. 
And  who  is  king  there?    Sii-e  TJghetto? 
Meuchant. 
Ughetto  died  young,  Ugo  di  Lusignauo, 
His  cousin,  is  king  now.     And  there  have  been 
Most  evil  deeds, 
And  poisonings  of  women. 
And  treachery  of  barons  and  the  plague, 
Locusts  and  earthquakes, 
And  Venus,  queen  of  devils,  has  appeared. 
[The  sounds  of  music  and  voices  and  laughter 
come  nearer.     Francesca  lies  back  on  the 
bed  between  the  half-closed  curtains.] 
[The  Women,  ^cith  the  exception  </ Adonella, 
enter,  followed  by  the  Doctok,  the  Astro l- 
OGEK,  the  Jester  and  the  Musicians,  who 
tune  their  instruments  and  prelude  on  them. 
The  DooTOR  loears  a  dressing-gown,  down 
to  the  heels,  of  a  dark  tan-colour;  the  As- 
trologer  a  green-brown  robe  and  a  black 
turban  striped  loith  yellow;  the  Jester   a 
scarlet  jerkin.      The  Musicians  go  up  on 
their  gallery,  and  range  themselves  in  order. 

Alticiiiara. 
Madonna,  here  is  Maestro  Almodoro. 

Alda. 
And  we  have  found  the  astrologei",  Madonna. 

Biancofiore. 
And  the  Jester  too,  (Jian  Figo,  that  procures 
RpcipoB  against  melanclioly  with  songs 
And  stories  and  the  dust  of  No-Man's  liand. 


142  FEANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Alda. 
And  the  voices  and  the  players 
On  bagpipe,  flute  and  lute, 
Rebec  and  monochord. 

{Standing  upright  between  the  curtains,  Fran- 
CESCA  looks  before  her  as  if  bewildered, 
neither  smiling  nor  speaking.] 

BlANCOFIORE 

[coming  forioard]. 
Here  is  the  garland 
Of  violets.     May  it  chase  your  melancholy! 

[She  offers  it  to  her  gracefully.  Fbancesca 
takes  it,  while  Altichiara  takes  the  mir- 
ror from  the  table  and  holds  it  up  before  her 
face  as  she  puts  on  the  garland.  The  Slave 
slowly  goes  out.] 

Garsenda. 
O  Maestro  Almodoro, 
Galen,  Hippocrates,  and  Avicenna 
Returned  to  earth  inside  one  doctor's  gown, 
Can  you  tell  us  what  is  melancholy? 

[The  jyocTOR  places  himself  in  their  midst,  and 
assumes  a  solemn  air.] 
Doctor. 

Melancholy 
Is  a  dark  humour  many  call  black  bile, 
And  it  is  cold  and  dry, 
And  has  its  situation  in  the  spine; 
Its  nature  is  of  the  earth 
And  of  the  autumn.    Nee  dubium  est  quidem 
Melancholicus  morbus 
Ab  impostore  Diabolo.     , 


FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINL  143 

[The  Jester  jmts  himself  in  front  of  Jdvi,  cover- 
ing him.  The  Women  and  the  Musicians 
laugh  and  whisper.] 

Jester. 

When 
Tour  devil  was  born,  my  devil  had  found  his 

less. 
Melancholy  is  to  drink  as  the  Gei'mans  do, 
Madonna;  to  backbite  as  the  Greeks  do, 
To  sing  as  the  French  do, 
To  dance  as  the  Moors  do, 
To  sleep  as  the  English  do, 
And  to  stand  steady  like 
Messere  Ferragunze  the  Cordelier. 
Madonna,  I  have  had  from  you  those  two 
Pieces  of  scarlet  in  advance:  but  see, 
The  jerkin  that  was  new  has  become  old. 
Have  you  two  other  pieces,  may  it  jjlease  you. 
Of  velvet? 

[The  WoMEX   laugh.     lie  eyes  the  merchunV s 
wares,  scattered  over  the  couch. \ 
Garsenda. 
The  Astrologer!    Speak  now, 
Astrologer  of  Syria  who  sees  all  things  I 

[The  bearded  Astrologer  puts  on  a  gloomy 
look  and  speaks  viilh  a  voice  that  seems  to 
come  from  a  deep  cave.] 

Astrologer. 
All  darts  he  sees  not,  who  sees  every  dart; 
But  he  who  blindly  aims  against  the  heart 
Takes  aim  from   thence,   whence  doth  all  life 
dei)art. 


144  FRANCESCA  DA   EIMINI. 

Jestek. 
And  I  believe  not  in  your  art. 

[Francesca  looks  sharply  at    the    Sakacen 
as  if  fearing  something.] 
Francesca. 
What  do  you  mean  by  this  dark  riddle?   Speak, 
Maestro  Isacco,  explain. 

Astrologer. 
Lady,  who  inward  looks, 

Looks  not,  but  he  who  wills  that  which  he 
looks. 

Jester. 
And  yet  the  man  of  Friuli  has  said : 
He  who  wants  woman  wants  a  lord  and  master. 
And  he  who  wants  a  lord  and  master  wauts — 
Catch  who  catch  can !     And  then 
In  the  book  of  Madam  Mogias  of  Egypt, 
That  is  called  the  Book  of  Piercing  to  the  Heart, 
It  is  declared  that  woman's  enemies 
Are  seventeen — 

[Adonella   enters,   carrying  five  garlands  of 
white  narcissi,  hanging  from  a  gold  wire 
that  binds  them  together.] 
Adonella. 
Madonna,  the  falconer 
Has  called  the  falcon  back.     Some  of  his  feath- 
ers 
Ai-e  bent  or  broken  a  little  ;  but  warm  water 
And  a  soft  bandage  will  soon  set  them  right. 

Astrologer. 
The  falcon's  beak  thou  shalt  not  shear  or  break, 
But  scanty  clippings  take; 


FBA2fCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  145 

For  these,  well  mixed  with  wool,  long  talons 
make. 

Francesca. 
You  speak  in  riddles,  then, 
To-day,  Maestro  Isacco  ? 

Astrologer. 
Not  every  one  who  speaketh  speaks,  but  he 
Who  sleeps  must  silent  be  ; 
Evils  in  life  and  truth  in  prophecy. 

Jester. 
So  may  it  be,  amen !     Bring  in  the  bier. 
O  Saracen  Isacco, 
You  are  a  very  great  astronomer  ; 
You  prophesy,  besides  ; 
But  you  must  make  a  little  matter  plain. 
Tell  me,  which  is  the  easier  to  know, 
The  things  that  are  now  past. 
Or  else  the  things  that  are  to  come  ? 

Astrologer, 

O  fool. 
Who  does  not  know  the  things  that  he  has  seen, 
The  things  that  are  behind  ? 

Jester. 
Good,  very  good  ;  we'll  see  how  well  you  know 

them. 
Now  tell  me  this, 

What  were  you  doing  on  the  last  March  calends, 
A  year  ago  ! 

[The  Astrologer  thbtkn.] 
Well,  then,  six  months  ago  ? 


146  FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINL 

[The  Astrologer  thinks.     The  Women  laugh. 
The  Jester  speaks  rapidhj.] 
I  will  ask  you,  tbeu,  oue  last  time :  can  you  tell  me 
What  weather  it  was  three  mouths  ago  ? 

[The  Astrologer  thinks  and  stares  before  him. 
The  Jester  plucks  him  by  the  robe.] 
Isaceo, 
Don't  cast  nativities,  you  need  not  gape, 
Stand  steady.     Now,  what  ship 
Came  here,  a  month  ago  ?    What  ship  set  sail  ? 
What  do  you  gape  at  ?    Did  you  eat  indoors 
Or  out  of  doors  a  fortnight  since  ? 
Astrologer. 

Wait,  wait 
A  little. 

Jester. 
Waitl    What?    But  I  will  not  wait. 
Come  now,  what  were  you  doing, 
A  week  ago  to-day  ? 

Astrologer. 
Give  me  a  little  respite. 

Jester. 

Why,  what  respite 
Should  such  as  I  give  such  as  you  who  know 
The  things  that  are  to  come  ?    What  did  you  eat 
Four  days  ago  ? 

Astrologer. 
Ah,  I  will  tell  you  that. 
Jester. 
What  did  you  say  ? 

Astrologer. 
You  are  in  such  haste. 


FRANCESCA  DA   BIMINI.  147 

Jester. 
What  haste  ?    Well,  tell  me  now,  what  did  you 

eat 
Yesterday  morning  ?    Tell  me  ! 
[The  Astrologer,  annoyed,  turns  his  back  up- 
on him.    He  plucks  him  by  the  sleeve.] 
Stop  !    Look  at  me  a  moment  ! 
I  lay  you  ten  to  one  you  do  not  know 
If  you  are  wide  awake  or  if  you  dream. 

Astrologer. 
I  know  I  do  not  sleep,  and  that  you  are 
The  greatest  fool  now  living  in  the  world  I 

Jester. 
But  I  assure  you  that  you  do  not  know. 
Come  here.     Don't  go  like  that  against  the  wind 
Of  Mongibello.     Tell  me,  have  you  not 
Hundreds  of  times  gone  up  and  down  the  stairs 
Of  the  belfry-tower  of  Santa  Colomba  ?    Well, 
How  many  stairs  are  there  ?     Come  here,  I  say! 
Don't  run  away  from  me.     Have  you  ever  eaten 
Medlars  ?    How  many  pips  are  in  a  medlar  ? 
[The  infuriated  AsTROLOGER/rees  himself  from 
the  grip  of  the  Jester,  amidst  much  laugh- 
ter.] 
Then  if  you  don't  know  that, 
How  can  you  know  things  that  are  in  the  sky, 
And  in  the  hearts  of  women,  and  in  hair  ? 
Find  a  cordwainc^r,  bid  him  make  a  rope 
Out  of  your  beard,  and  hang  you  to  a  star. 

IJlANCOI'IORK. 

Madonna  has  smilt;d  ! 

Ciau  Figo  has  made  even  Madonna  smile  I 


14^  FRANCESCA  BA  HIMtni. 

Go,  ^o,  clear  doctor,  to  your  house  again, 

And  take  your  medicine  and  your   Latin   with 

you, 
To-day  is  the  March  calends  !  Song  means  dance 
To-day,  and  dance  means  song. 
Play,  Simonetto,  play  ! 

[The  MusiciAxs  begin  a  prelude.  Those  stand- 
ing near  go  to  the  back,  so  as  to  leave  room 
for  the  dance.  Adonella  unlooses  the  gold 
ioire,and  distributes  the  garlands  of  narcissi 
to  her  companions,  who  put  them  on;  and 
retains  for  herself  the  one  that  bears  two 
swallows^  wings.  Alda  takes  out  of  a  little 
bag  four  painted  wooden  swallows  that  have 
a  kind  of  small  handle  tinder  the  breast,  and 
gives  one  to  each  of  her  companions;  who, 
standing  ready  for  the  dance,  hold  them  each 
raised  in  the  left  hand.  Adonella  whis- 
tles, in  imitation  of  the  chirruping  of  swal- 
lows, and,  while  the  other  four  dance  and 
sing,  she  utters  at  intervals,  according  to  the 
rhythm,  the  loud  chirping  that  heralds  the 
spring.] 

Alda. 
Fresh,  fresh,  in  the  calends  of  March, 
O  swallows,  coming  home 
Fresh  from  the  quiet  lands  beyond  the  sea; 
First  to  bring  back  the  great  good  messages 
Of  joy,  and  first  to  taste  the  good  wild  scent. 
O  creature  of  pure  joy. 
Come  in  your  garments   white   and   black,  fiy 

hither, 
And  bring  your  springtide  gladness  to  our  dance! 


FRANCHSCA  DA  BIMINI.  149 

Altichiaka. 
March  comes,  and  February 
Goes  with  the  wind  to-day; 
Bring  out  your  tafl'ety 
And  put  the  vair  away. 
And  come  with  me,  I  pray, 
Across  the  streams  in  tlood, 
Under  the  branching  wood  that  leans  aluug, 
With  dancing  and  with  song  in  company 
With  fleet-foot  lovers,  or  upon  the  lea 
Gather  the  violets, 
Where  the  grass  smells  more  sweet  because  her 

feet, 
Have    passed    that    way,    the    naked    feet    of 

Spring  ! 

Garsenda. 
To-day  the  earth  appears 
New-wedded  like  a  girl  ; 
The  face  that  the  sea  wears 
To-day  is  like  a  peml. 
Hark,  hark,  is  that  tlie  merle 
Deep  in  the  thick.'t  ?     Hark, 
How  swift  upsoars  the  lark  into  the  sky  1 
The  cruel  wind  goes  by,  and  in  his  mouth 
Bears  ravished  nests  !    O  swallow  of  the  south, 
Thy  tail's  an  arrow  feather, 
And  like  the  twanging  of  a  bow  thy  cry 
Whereby    the  sjiring   will  strike,    the  hands  of 

Spring! 

Biancofioke. 
O  creature  of  deliglit, 
Lead  thou  the  dancing  feet, 
In  robe  of  black  and  white, 


150  FRANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

As  is  thy  usage  sweet. 

Make  here  thy  stay,0  fleet 

Swallow,  here  in  this  room 

Wherein  is  seen,  in  gloom  or  light  of  day, 

The  tale  of  Iseult,  the  fair  flower  of  Ireland, 

As  here  thou  seest,  and  this  shall  be  thy  gar- 
land, 

Thy  nest,  no  prison-mesh, 

Seeing  that  the  fresh  fair  lady  seated  here 

Is  not  Francesca,  but  is  very — 

[The  Dancers  return  rapidly,  towards  Fran- 
cesca and  form  in  a  line,  stretching  out  to- 
wards her  the  hand  that  holds  the  swalloio, 
and  the  other;  and  they  all  sing  with 
BiANCOFioRE,  without  interval,  the  last 
word  of  the  stanza.] 

All 

Spring! 

[At  the   beginning   of  the    last    movement  the 

Slave  appears  on  the  threshold.     As  the 

Musicians  p^a^/  the  last  notes,  she  goes  up 

to  Francesca  hurriedly  and  whispers  to 

her  something  that  suddenly  disturbs  her.\ 

Francesca 

{Impetuously). 

Exancofiore,  Altichiara,  Alda,  Adonella, 

Garsenda,  for  the  new 

Delight  of  this  new  dance, 

I  must  give  you  something  new  : 

These  dresses,  take  them,  each! 

[She  picks  up  some  of  the  scattered  goods  and 

gives  them.] 

Here's  for  you,  and  for  you! 


FRANCESCA  DA  lilMINI.  lol 

[The  Jester  comes forivard  in  a  slJelong  locnj.] 

And  for  you  too, 
Gian  Figo,  but  no  jesting. 

{The  Jestek  takes  it  and  decamps.] 
Garseuda,  take  this  too  for  the  Musicians, 
They  can  make  jackets  of  it, 
With  stripes  of  red  and  yellow.     And   see,  too, 

Merchant 
You  set  aside  two  lengths  of  some  good  serge 
For  Maestro  Alraodoro,  and  Maestro  Isacco. 
Now  go,  I  have  given  you  something,  all  of  you, 
For   the    March   calends'   sake.     Go  now,  and, 

going, 

Sing  in  the  court  the  song  of  the  March  swal- 
lows. 

You  must  come  back  again,  Merchant;  Garsenda 

Will   bring  you   word.      You   may   leave   your 
wares  here  now. 

Go,  and  be  merry,  until  vesper-time; 

Adonella,  lead  the  way  into  the  court. 

A  happy  spring  to  you! 

[The  Musicians  cotue  down  from  their  gallery, 
playinff,  a)Hl  go  out.  The  Jestek  skip.'i 
after  them.  All  the  others  fxnu  before 
FitANCEScA  and  take  the  gifts  they  have 
received,  following  the  Musicians  with 
whispering  and  laughter.  The  Slave  re- 
mains, busy  wrapping  up  the  vmres  in 
bundles.  Fkancesca  abandons  herself  to 
her  anxiety.  She  takes  several  steps,  blindly; 
with  a  sudden  movement,  she  draws  the 
curtains  of  the  alcove,  which  are  half  open, 
sliowing  the  bed.     Then  she  sits  dovm  he- 


152  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

fore  the  reading-desk,  and  glances  at  the 
open  book,  but,  in  turning,  the  train  of  her 
dress  catches  in  the  lute,  which  falls,  and 
lies  on  the  ground.     She  trembles.] 

No,  no,  Smaragdi!    Kun,  and  tell  hiui  not 

To  come! 

[T'he  sounds  die  aioay  in  the  distance.  The 
Slave,  having  finished,  goes  towards  the 
door.  Francesca  takes  a  step  towards 
her  as  if  to  call  her  back.] 

Smaragdi! 

[The  Slave  goes  out.] 
[After  a  feio  moments,  a   hand  raises   the   cur- 
tain,   and    Paolo    Malatesta    appears. 
The   door   closes  behind  him].     As  Paolo 
and  Fkancesca  gaze  at   one   another,  for 
a    moment,    without  finding    words,     both 
change  colour.     The  sound  of  Music  dies 
away    through    the   palace.     The  room   is 
gilded  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  which 
shine  through  the  long  loindow.] 
Francesca. 
Welcome,  my  lord  and  kinsman. 
Paolo 

I  have  come, 
Hearing  a  sound  of  music,  to  bring  greetings, 
My  greetings  of  return. 

Francesca. 

You  have  come  back 
Speedily,  sir;  indeed  with  the  first  swallow. 
My  women  even  now 
Were  singing  a  new  song  that  they  have  made 


FRAXCESCA  DA   RIMINI.  153 

To  welcome  March.     And  there  was  also  here 
The  merchant  out  of  Florence,  who  had  come 
Among  your  following.     Of  him  I  had 
Tidings  of  you. 

Paolo . 

But  I,  of  you,  no  tidings, 
None,  I  heard  nothing  there, 
Nothing  of  you  at  all. 
From    that    day    onward,   when,   one   perilous 

night 
You  put  a  cup  of  wine  into  my  hands, 
And  said  to  me,  "  farewell!" 
And  said  to  me,  "  God-speed!" 
Fkancesca. 

I  have  no  memory, 

My  lord,  concerning  this.     I  have  prayed  much. 

Paolo. 
You  have  forgotten  then  ? 

Francesca. 

I  have  prayed  much. 
Paolo. 
And  I  have  suffered  much. 
If  it  be  true  that  he  who  suffers  conquers, 
I  think  I  must  needs  conquer.  .  .  . 
Fuancksca. 
What? 
Paolo. 


My  fate, 


Francesca. 

Francesca. 
And  yet  you  liave  come  back? 


154  FBANCESCA  DA  BIMINI. 

Taolo. 

I  have  come  back 

To  live. 

Francesca. 
Not  to  die  now? 

Paolo. 
Ah,  you  remember 
The  death  I  was  to  die, 

And  you  that  would  not !    So  much,  at  the  least, 
You  have  remembered. 

[tike  draws  back  towards  the  window,  as  if  with- 
drawing herself  from  his  scarcely  repressed 
violence.] 

Francesca. 

Paolo,  give  me  peace ! 
It  is  so  sweet  a  thing  to  live  forgetting, 
But  one  hour  only,  and  be  no  more  tossed, 
Out  of  the  tempest. 
Do  not  call  back,  I  pray, 
The  shadow  of  that  time  in  this  fresh  light 
That  slakes  my  thirst  at  last 
Like  that  long  draught 
That  at  the  ford  I  drank, 
Out  of  the  living  water. 
And  now,  I  desire  now 
To  think  my  soul  has  left 
That  shore  to  come  into  this  sheltering  shore. 
Where  music  and  where  hope  are  sisters;  so 
To  forget  all  the  sorrow  that  has  been 
Yesterday,  and  shall  be 
To-morrow,  and  so  let 
All  of  my  life,  and  all  the  veins  of  it, 
And  all  the  days  of  it, 


FRANCESCA  DA    liUIINI.  155 

And  all  old  things  in  it,  far-away  things, 

But  for  one  liour,  one  hour, 

Slip  away  quietly,  a  quiet  tide. 

Unto  that  sea, 

Even  these  eyes  might  behold  smilingly, 

Were  it  not  hidden  by  the  tears  that  tremble 

And  do  not  fall.     O  peace,  peace  in  that  sea 

That  was  so  wild  with  waves 

Yesterday,  and  to-day  is  like  a  pearl. 

Give  me  peace! 

Paolo. 
It  is  the  voice  of  spring 
I  hear,  and  from  your  lips  the  music  runs 
Over  the  world,  that  I  have  seemed  to  hear, 
Riding  against  the  wind, 
Sing  in  the  voice  of  the  wind, 
At  every  turn  of  the  way. 
At  every  glade,  and  high 

On  the  hill-tops,  and  on  the  edges  of  the  woods, 
And  under  them  the  streams. 
When  my  desire  bent  back. 

Burning  with  breath,  the  mane  of  my  wild  horse, 
Over  the  saddle-bow,  and  the  soul  lived. 
In  the  swiftness  of  that  llight. 
On  swiftness. 

Like  a  torch  carried  in  the  wind,  and  all 
The  thoughts  of  all  my  soul,  save  one,  save  one, 
Were  all  blown  backward,  spent 
Like  sparks  behind  me. 

Fkanckhca. 

Ah,  Paolo,  like  sparks 
All  your  words  nre,  and  still  they  take  no  rest, 
And  all  yonr  soul  lives  still 


156  FRANCESCA  DA   BUIINI. 

In  the  strong  wind  and  swiftness  of  your  coming, 

And  drags  nie  with  it,  and  I  am  full  of  fear. 

I  pray  you,  I  pray  you  now. 

That  you  will  give  me  peace 

For  this  hour  only, 

My  fair  friend,  my  sweet  friend, 

That  I  may  quiet  and  put  to  sleep  in  me 

The  old  sick  pain,  and  forget  all  the  rest; 

Only  bring  back  into  my  eyes  the  first. 

Look  that  took  hold  on  me  out  of  your  face, 

Unknown  to  me  ;  for  these  dry  eyelids  have 

No  need  of  any  healing  but  that  dew. 

Only  to  bring  back  and  to  have  in  them 

Again  the  miracle  of  that  first  look  ; 

And  they  will  feel  that  grace  has  come  to  them, 

As  they  felt  once,  out  of  the  heart  of  a  dream, 

The  coming  near  of  the  dawn  ; 

And  feel  that  they  are  to  be  comforted, 

Perhaps  in  the  shade 

Of  the  new  garland. 

Paolo. 
And  so  garlanded 
With  violets  I  saw  you  yesterday 
In  a  meadow,  as  I  stayed, 
Pausing  in  journeying, 

And  being  alone,  and  having  far  outstripped 
My  escort.     I  could  hear 
Only  the  champing  bit 
Of  my  horse  pasturing,  and  see  from  there 
The  towers  of  Meldola  in  a  wood.     And  all 
Palpitated  with  you 

In  the  high  morning.     And  you  came  to  me 
With  violets,  and  returning  to  your  lips 


FEAXCESCA  DA  BIMINI.  157 

I  heard  again  a  word  that  you  had  spoken, 
Saying  :  I  pardon  you,  and  with  much  love! 

Francesca. 
That  word  was  spoken 
And  perfect  joy  awaits  upon  the  word. 

[Paolo's  eyes  wander  over  the  room.] 
Ah,  do  not  look  around 
Upon  these  things, 
Silent,  as  if  with  joy, 
And  only  full  of  sorrow  and  of  shame. 
No  autumn  withered  them, 
They  shall  not  be  awakened  with  the  spring. 
Look  on  the  sea,  the  sea 

That  has  borne  witness  for  us  once  with  God 
To  certain  words  once  spoken,  vast  and  calm 
And  shining  where  the  battle  came  between, 
And  silent  where  the  rage  of  clamour  came 
Between,  and  one  sail  passed  upon  the  sea, 
Going  alone  upon  its  way,  like  this, 
See,  yonder?    And  our  souls 
Were  tried,  as  if  with  fire. 
But  now  sit  here,  upon  the  window-seat, 
And  not  with  weapons  now  for  killing  men, 
But  without  cruelty.     See,  Paolo, 
With  this  mere  sprig  of  basil. 

[She  taken  a  chinter  from  her  head,  and  offers  it 
to  him;  an  he  fitep.t  nearer,  his  foot  strikes 
against  the  catch  of  the  trap-door,  and  he 
stops.  1 

You  have  struck  your  foot 
Against  the  ring  of  the  trap-door.     It  leads 
From  here  into  another  room  beneath. 
[Paolo  stoops  to  look  at  it.\ 


158  FEANC'ESCA  DA   BIMINI. 

Paolo. 
Ah,  you  can  go  from  here  into  a  room 
Beneath. 

Francesca 
[Giving  him  the  sprifj  ofhasil\. 
Come,  take  it,  smell  it;  it  is  good. 
Smaragdi  planted  it  in  memory 
Of  Cyprus,  in  this  vase; 
And  when  she  waters  it, 
She  sings:  "  Under  your  feet 
I  spread  sweet  basil, 
I  bid  you  sleep  there, 
I  bid  you  pluck  it, 
I  bid  you  smell  it. 
And  remember  the  giver!  " 
At  Florence  all  the  women 
Have  their  sweet  basil  on  the  window-silL 
Do  you  not  know?    But  come, 
Will  you  not  tell  me  something  of  your  life? 
Sit  here,  and  tell  me  something  of  yourself, 
How  you  have  lived. 

Paolo. 

Why  do  you  ask  of  me 
To  live  the  misery  of  my  life  twice  over? 
All  that  was  joy  to  others  was  to  me 
Sorrow  and  heaviness.     One  only  thing. 
Music,  could  ever  give  me  jileasant  hours. 
I  went  sometimes  to  a  great  singex-'s  house, 
He  was  by  name  Casella, 
And  there  wei-e  met  many  of  gentle  birth, 
Among  them  Guido  Cavalcanti,  and  these 
Were  wont  to  make  rhymes  in  the  vulgar  tongue; 
And  there  was  Ser  Brunetto, 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  159 

Returned  from  Paris,  wise 

With  rhetoric  of  the  schools,  ^^ 

Also  a  youth 

Of  the  Ali^hieri,  Dante  was  his  name, 

And  I  much  loved  this  youth,  he  was  so  full 

Of  thoughts  of  love  and  sorrow, 

So  burnintr  and  so  loverlike  for  son<T. 

And  something  like  a  healing  influence  passed 

Out  of  his  heart  to  mine, 

That  seemed  shut  up  in  me;  for  the  exceeding 

And  too  much  sweetness  hid 

Sometimes  within  the  song  moved  him  to  weep 

Silently,  silent  tears. 

And  seeing  his  weeping,  I  too  wept  with  him. 

[Her  eyes  fill  with  team  and  her  voice  trembles.] 

Francesca. 
You  wept? 

Paolo. 
Francesca ! 

Fbancesca. 

Wept?     All,  Paolo  mine, 
Blessed  be  he  that  taught  your  heart  such  tears, 
Such  tears!     I  will  pray  always  for  his  peace. 
For  now  I  see  you,  now  I  see  you  again 
As  you  were  then,  sweet  friend. 
The  grace  has  come  with  healing  to  my  eyes. 

[  She  appears  us  if  transfigured  with  perfect  joy. 
With  a  slow  moxjo men t  she  takes  (lie  i/arland 
from  her  head  and  lays  it  on  the  open   hook 
beside  her]. 

Paoi.o. 
Why  do  you  take  the  garland  from  your  head? 


160  PRANCESCA  DA  RIMINl. 

Francesca. 
Because  it  wa8  not  you  who  gave  it  me. 
I  gave  you  once  a  rose 
Fi'ora  that  sarcophagus. 
But  now,  poor  flowers,  I  feel 
Your  freshness  is  all  spent! 

[Paolo  rises,  and  goes  up  to  the  reading  desk 
and  touches  the  violets.] 

Paolo. 
'Tis  true!    Do  you  remember?  on  that  night 
Of  fire  and  blood,  you  asked  of  me  the  gift 
Of  a  fair  helmet;  and  I  gave  it  you: 
'Twas  finely  tempered. 
The  steel  and  gold  of  it  have  never  known 
What  I'ust  is,  soiling.     And  you  let  it  fall. 
Do  you  remember? 

I  picked  it  up,  and  I  have  held  it  dear 
As  a  king's  crown. 

Since  then,  when  I  have  set  it  on  my  head, 
I  feel  twice  bold,  and  there  is  not  a  thought 
Within  my  heart  that  is  not  as  a  flame. 

[He  bends  over  the  book.] 
Ah,  listen,  the  first  words  that  meet  my  eye^ 
'♦  Made  richer  by  that  gift  than  had  you  given 

him 
The  gift  of  all  the  world." 
What  book  is  this? 

Fbancesca. 

The  famous  history 
Of  Lancelot  of  the  Lake. 

[She  rises  and  goes  over  to  the  reading-desk.] 


PRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  161 

Paolo. 

And  have  you  read 
The  book  all  through? 

Frastcesca. 

I  have  but 
Come  in  my  reading  to  this  point. 
Paolo. 

To  where? 
Here,  where  the  mark  is? 
[He  reads.] 

" but  you  ask  of  me  y^ 

Nothing "     Will  you  go  on?  / 

Francksca. 
Look  how  the  sea  is  growing  white  with  light! 

Paolo. 
Will  you  not  read  the  page  with  me,  Francesca? 

Fkancksca. 
Look  yonder,  how  a  flight 
Of  swallows  comes,  and  coming  sets  a  shadow 
On  the  white  sea! 

Paolo. 
Will  you  not  read,  Francesca? 
Francesca. 
And  there  in  one  sail,  and  so  red  it  seems 
Like  fire. 

Paolo 
[Tii-adln;/]. 

'*  '  Assuredly,  my  lady  '  says 
TluMeat  Oaleotto,  '  he  is  not  so  hot. 
He  does  not  ask  you  any  single  thing 
For  love  of  you,  Itocause  lie  fears,  hut  I 
Make  suit  to  you  for  liim;  and  know  that  1 


162  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Had  never  asked  it  of  you,  but  that  you 

Were  better  off  for  it,  seeing  it  is 

The  richest  treasure  you  shall  ever  compass.' 

Whereat  says  she " 

[Paolo  draws  Fbancesca  gently  by  the  hand.] 
But  now,  will  you  not  read 
What  she  says  ?     Will  you  not  be  Guenevere? 
See  now  how  sweet  they  are, 
Your  violets 
That  you  have  cast  away !    Come,  read  a  little. 

[Their  heads  lean  together  over  the  book.] 
Francesca 
[Reading]. 
"  Whereat  says  she:  '  This  know  I  well,  and  I 
Will  do  whatever  thing  you  ask  of  me.' 
And  Galeotto  answers  her:  *  Much  thanks, 
Lady!  I  ask  you  that  you  give  to  him 

Your  love '  " 

[She  stops.] 
Paolo. 
But  read  on. 

Francesca. 
No,  I  cannot  see 
The  words. 

Paolo. 

Read  on.    It  says :  "  Assuredly " 

Francesca. 
"  '  Assuredly,'  says  she,  '  I  promise  it. 
But  let  hira  be  mine  own  and  I  all  his. 
And  let  there  be  set  straight  all  crooked  things 
And  evil '  "     Enough,  Paolo. 


FBANCESCA  DA  HIMINI.  163 

Paolo 
[Reading  :  hoarsely  and  tremulously.  ] 
"  *  Lady!'  says  he,  '  much  thanks,  but  kiss  liim 

then, 
Now,  anil  before  my  face,  for  a  beginning 

Of  a  true  love '  "     You,  you!  what  does 

she  say  ? 
Now,  what  does  she  say?    Here. 

[Their  white  faces  lean  over  the  book,  until  their 
cheeks  almost  touch.] 

Francesca 
[Readiny]. 
"  Says  she  :        '  For  what 
Shall  I  be  then  entreated.     But  I  will  it 
More  than  he  wills  it .  .  .  '  " 
Paolo 
[Followiny  brokenly]. 
"And  they  draw  apart 
And  the  queen  luuks  on  him  and  sees  that  he 
Cannot  take  heart  on  him  to  do  aught  more. 
Thereat  she  takes  him  by  the  chin,  and  slowly 

Kisses  him  on  the  mouth " 

[He  makes  the  same  movement  towards  Fuan- 
CKSf'A,  a7id  kisses  her.  As  their  mouths 
separate,  Fuancksca  staggers  and  falls  back 
on  the  cushions.] 

Fkancesca 
[Faintly]. 
No,  Paolo  I 


ACT  IV. 

An  octagonal  hall,  of  gray  stone,  with  Jive  of  its 
sides  in  perspective.  High  up,  on  the  bare  stone, 
is  a  frieze  of  unicorns  on  a  gold  background. 
On  the  wall  at  the  back  is  a  large  window  with 
glass  panes,  looking  out  on  the  mountain,  fur- 
nished with  benches  in  the  recess.  On  the  wall 
at  right  angles  to  it,  on  the  right,  is  a  grated 
door  leading  to  the  subterranean  j^rison.  Against 
the  opposite  wall,  to  the  left,  is  a  long  ivooden 
seat  ivith  a  high  back,  in  front  of  which  is  a  long 
narrow  table  laid  with  fruit  and  wine.  In  each 
of  the  other  two  sides  facing,  is  a  door;  the  left, 
near  the  table,  leads  to  the  room  of  Francesca, 
the  right  to  the  corridor  and  stairs.  All  round 
are  placed  torchbearers  of  iron;  on  brackets  are 
hung  shoulder-belts,  loaist-belts,  quivers,  and 
different  portions  of  armour ;  pikes,  lances,  hal- 
berds, spears,  axes,  balistas  lean  against  them. 
[Francesca  is  seated  at  the  window,  and  Ma- 
LATESTiNO  stunds  at  her  feet.] 
Francesca. 

You  would  be  justicer,  Malatestino  ! 

Your  cradle,  of  a  surety,  was  hewn  out 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMIXI.  165 

From  some  old  tree-truuk  by  a  savage  axe 
That  had  cut  many  heads  ofE  before  then. 
Malatestino 
[laughs  convulsively]. 
Kinswoman,  do  I  fright  you? 
And  should  I  please  you  better 
If  I  had  had  my  cradle  in  the  rose 
Of  a  calm  lute? 

Francesca. 
You  are  a  cruel  boy  to  take  revenge 
Upon  a  falcon ! 
Why  did  you  kill  him,  if  you  held  him  dear? 

Malatestino. 
Merely  for  justice'  sake. 
See,  I  had  let  him  loose  upon  a  crane, 
The  crane  went  up,  the  falcon  followed  him 
And  went  up  far  above  him,  and  under  him 
Saw  a  young  eagle  flying,  and  he  took  him 
And  struck  him  to  the  ground,  and  held  him  so 
Till  he  had  killed  him. 
I  ran  to  take  him,  thinking  him  the  crane, 
But  found  it  was  an  eagle. 
Then  I  was  angry,  and  struck  off  the  head 
Of  the  fair  falcon  who  had  killed  his  lord. 

Fkancesca. 
It  was  a  foolish  deed. 

Malatestino. 

Hut  he  had  killed 
Uis  lord.     1  did  ijut  justice. 

Francesca. 
It  was  a  wicked  folly,  Malatestino. 


166  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Malatestino. 
The  fool  shall  pa.ss,  and  with  the  fool  his  folly, 
Aud  the  time  passes,  but  not  every  time. 

Fkancesca. 
Why  do  you  speak  so  strangely? 
You  are  athirst  for  blood 
Always,  always  at  watch. 
The  enemy  of  all  things.     In  all  your  words 
There  is  a  secret  menace  ; 
Like  a  wild  beast  you  bite 
And  tear  and  claw  whatever  comes  your  way. 
Where  were  you  born?    Your  mother  gave  you 

milk 
As  to  another?    And  you  are  so  young ! 
The  down  is  scarcely  shadowed  on  your  cheek. 
Malatestino 
[With sudden  violence\. 
You  are  a  goad  to  me, 
The  thought  of  you  is  like  a  goad  to  me, 
Always.    You  are  my  wrath. 

[Fkancesca  rises  and  moves  away  from  the 
loindow,  as  if  to  escape  from  a  snare.  She 
stands  near  the  loall  against  which  arms  are 
heaped  up.} 

Fkancesca. 
Malatestino,  enough !    Have  you  no  shame? 
Your  brother  will  be  here. 

Malatestino 

\folloxoincj  her\. 
You  strain  me  like  a  bow, 
That  vibrates  in  an  hour 
A  tliousand  times,  and  pierces  at  a  venture. 


FBAyCESCA  DA  ElMINI.  167 

Your  hand  is  terrible, 
That  holds  my  force  in  it, 

And  casts  it  out  to  wound  where  it  has  flown. 
I  fly  you,  and  you  follow. 
You  are  with  me  suddenly, 
Like  a  sharp  storm  of  rain, 
In  the  fields  and  on  the  ways, 
When  I  go  out 
Against  the  enemy. 

I  breathe  you  when  I  breathe  the  dust  of  battles. 
The  cloud  that  rises  from  the  trampled  earth 
Takes  on  your  very  form, 

And  you  live  and  breathe  and  you  dissolve  again 
Under  the  pawing  of  the  panting  horses 
In  the  tracks  that  redden  and  fill  up  with  blood. 
I  will  clasp  you,  I  will  clasp  you  now  at  last! 
[Fkancesca  retreats  along  the  wall  until  she 
comes  to  the  grated  doorl\ 
Francesca. 
You  do  not  touch  me,  madman,  or  I  call 
Your  brother!     Get  you  gone.     I  pity  you. 
You  are  a  boy.    If  you  would  not  be  whipped, 
Get  you  gone.     You  are  a  boy, 
A  wicked  boy. 

Malatkstino. 
Whom  would  you  call? 
Francesca. 

Your  brother. 
Malatestino. 
WTiich? 

[Francesca  slartn,  hearing  a  cry  rise  up  from 
belov:,  through  the  door  against  mhich  she  is 
standing.  ] 


168  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Fkancesca. 
Who  cried  there?    Did  you  not  hear  it? 

Malatestino. 

One 
Who  has  to  die. 

Fkancesca. 
Montagna 
Dei  Parcitadi? 

[Another  cry  comes  from  the  prison.] 

Malatestino. 
I  too  will  say:    Enough ! 
Enough,  Francesca,  to-day  you  seal  your  fate. 

Fkancesca. 
Ah,  now  I  cannot  hear  him;  but  at  night 
He  howls,  howls  like  a  wolf; 
nis  crying  rises  to  me  in  my  room. 
What  have  you  done  to  him? 
Have  you  put  him  to  the  torture? 

Malatestino. 

Listen  to  me.     Giovanni 
Sets  out  at  Vespers  for  the  Podesteria 
Of  Pesaro.     You  have  prepared  for  him 
Food  for  the  journey. 

[He points  to  the  table.] 

Listen.     I  can  give  him 
Food  for  another  journey. 

Fkancesca. 

What  do  you  mean? 
Malatestino. 
Look  well  at  me.     I  can  still  see  with  one. 


FEANCESCA  DA  B I  MI  XI.  169 

Francesca. 
What  do  you  mean?    You  threaten  me?    You 

net 
Some  treachery  against  your  brother. 

Malatestino. 

Treachery? 

I  would  have  thought,  kinswoman,  that  such  a 

word 
Had  burnt  your  tongue;  I  see 
Your  lips  are  scathless,  though 
A  Httle  paler.     I  but  spoke  at  random. 
My  judgment  was  at  fault.     Only  I  say 
This  one  time  more  .... 
[The  crying  of  the  Prisoner  is  again  heard.] 

FUANCKSCA 

[Trembling  loith  horror]. 

How  he  cries!    How  he  cries! 
Who  tortures  him,  or  what  new  agony 
Have  you  found  out  for  him? 
Have  you  walled  him  up  alive?    Will  he  cry  so 
All  his  life  long?     Go,  put  an  end  to  it, 
And  take  him  from  his  torture. 
I  will  not  hear  his  crying  any  more. 

Malatestino. 
Well,  I  will  go.    I  will  see  that  you  shall  have 
A  quiet  night  and  an  untroubled  sleep. 
Because  to-morrow  you  must  sleep  ahme. 
While  my  good  brother  rides  to  Pesaro. 

[lie  goen  up  to  the  vnill  and  choosr.'i  an  axe  from 
among  the  vjeapons  piled  up  against  it.\ 
FUANCESCA. 

What  are  you  doing? 


170  FEANCESCA  UA    RIMINI. 

Malatestino. 
I? 
I  would  be  justicer, 
And  by  your  wish  and  will, 
Kinswoman. 

[lie  exninhirs  the  blade  of  the  rveapon  ;  then  un- 
bolts the  barred  door,  which  opens  upon 
black  darkness.] 

Fkancesca. 
You  are  going  to  kill  him?     Ah, 
Wild  beast,  but  you  have  lived  too  long,  I  think, 
Since  I  bound  up  your  wound  for  you,  and  you 
Raved  at  your  father.     Still  I  hear  you.    Then 
You  bit  the  hand  that  gave  you  medicine, 
Cared  for  you  in  your  sickness,  soothed  your 

pain. 
Accursed  be  the  hour  in  which  I  bent 
Over  your  pillow  to  give  ease  to  you! 

Malatestino. 
Francesca,  listen,  Francesca:  even  so  sure 
As  death  is  in  the  point  of  this  good  weapon 
I  hold  here  in  my  hand,  so  sure  is  life 
In  that  one  word 
You  still  may  say  to  me. 
Full-blooded  life,  do  you  not  understand? 
And  full  of  winds,  and  full  of  conquering  days. 
[Fbancesca  replies  slowly,  in  an  equable  voice, 
as  in  a  momentary  respite  from  horror  and 
anxiety.] 

Francesca. 
What  is  the  word?    Who  is  there  that  could  say 

it? 
You  live  in  a  loud  noise, 


FBANCESCA  DA  EIMINI.  171 

But  where  I  live  is  silence.     The  prisoner 

Is  not  so  far  and  lonely 

As  you  are  far  and  lonely,  O  poor  blind 

Slauj^htcrman,  drunk  with  shoutings,  and  with 

blows ! 
But  fate  is  very  silent. 

Malatestino. 
Ah,  if  you  could  but  see  the  countenance 

Of  the  overhanging  fate ! 

There  is  a  wretched  knot  within  my  head, 

A  knot  of  thoughts  like  i)ent-up  lightnings:  soon 

They  will  break  out.     But  listen. 

Listen  !   If  your  hand  will  but  touch  my  hand, 

If  your  hair  will  lean  over  me  again, 

Over  my  fever,  and  .  .  . 

[A  more  prolonged  cry  is  heard  from  below.] 

Francesca. 

0  horror!  liorror! 

[She  vioMH  buck  to  the  embrasure  of  the  window, 
sits  down,  and  pals  her  elbows  on  her  knees, 
and  her  head  between  her  hands.] 
Mai^atestino 
[Lnokinf/  aside  at  her]. 
This  slRiU  be  from  you. 
[lie  takes  dovm  a  torch,  puts  the  axe  on  the 
ground,  takes  the  steel,  strikes  it,  and  lights 
the  torch,  while  he  speaks.  | 

1  go.     Von  will  !iot  hear  liirn  any  more. 
I  will  see  tliat  you  sliall  have 

A  quint  night  and  an  untrouliled  sleep, 
And  I  will  give  my  father  (piict  too; 


172  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI. 

He  fears  his  flight.     And  I  would  have   Gio- 
vanni 
In  passing  by  Gradara,  give  hira  this 
Most  certain  token. 
O  kinswoman,  good  vespers! 
Fbancesca  remains  motionless  as  if  hearing 
nothing. 

He  picks  up  the  weapon  and  goes  into  the 
darkness  loith  his  silent  cat-like  step,  hold- 
ing the  lighted  torch  in  his  left  hand.  The 
little  door  remains  open.  Francesca  rises 
and  watches  the  light  fade  away  in  the  open- 
ing ;  suddenly  she  runs  to  the  door,  and  stops, 
shuddering.  The  barred  door  grates  in  the 
silence.  She  turns,  and  moves  away  xoith 
slow  steps,  her  head  bent,  as  if  under  a 
heavy  loeight.] 

Francesca 
[In  a  low  voice,  to  herself]. 
And  an  untroubled  sleep! 

[Through  the  great  door  on  the  right  is  heard 
the  ^^arsh  voice  of  Gianciotto.  Francesca 
stops  suddenly.] 

Giovanni. 
Look  you  for  Messer  Paolo  my  brother, 
And  tell  him  I  set  out  for  Pesaro 
In  an  hour's  time  from  now, 
And  that  I  wait  him. 

[lie  enters  fully  armed.     Seeing  his  wife,  he 
goes  tip  to  her.] 
Ah  my  dear  lady,  you  are  waiting  me! 
Why  do  you  tremble,  why  are  you  so  pale? 
[He  takes  her  hands.] 


FRANCESCA  DA  EUJINI.  173 

And  you  are  cold  too,  cold  as  if  with  fear. 
But  why? 

Fbancesca. 
Malatestino 
Had  scarcely  eutered  when  I  heard  again 
The  crying  of  the  prisoner, 
Who  cries  these  many  days  so  horribly 
Out  of  the  earth;  and,  seeing  me  distraught, 
Flamed  into  anger  and  went  suddenly 
Down  to  the  prison  by  the  door  there,  armed 
With  a  great  axe,  saying  that  he  would  kill  him, 
Against  the  express  commandments  of  his  father 
That  fretted  him  too  much. 
Cruel  he  is,  your  brother,  my  good  lord. 
And  does  not  love  me. 

Gia:^ciotto. 

Do  not  tremble,  lady. 
Where  has  your  valiance  gone?    But  now  you 

were 
Fearless  among  the  fighters, 
And  saw  men  fall  with  arrows  in  their  throats, 
And  flung  about  the  Greek  fire  in  your  hands. 
Why  does  the  life  then  of  an  enemy 
So  greatly  trouble  you?  and  a  cry  affright  you, 
Or  an  axe  brandished? 

Fkancerca. 
To  fight  in  battle  is  a  lovely  thing. 
But  secret  slaying  in  the  dark  I  hate. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Malatestino  tired  of  keeping  watch 

So  long,  and  so  long  waiting  for  the  ransom 

Tbat  the  old  I'arcitade  would  not  pay, 


174  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

The  old  foul  miser  that  in  taking  flight 
Took  with  him  certain  rights  and  privileges 
Of  the  Commune  at  Rimino  .  ,  .  But  why 
Do  you  say  he  does  not  love  you? 

Francesca. 
I  do  not  know.     It  seems  so. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Is  he  unkind  with  you? 

Fkancesca. 
He  is  a  boy,  and  like 
Young  mastiffs,  he  must  bite.    But  come,  my 

lord, 
Take  food  and  drink 
Before  you  go  your  journey. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

But  perhaps 
Malatestino  .  .  . 

Francesca. 
Come,  why  do  you  think 
Of  what  I  said  but  lightly?     "  Heart  of  metal, 
Tough  liver  :  "     I  remember  your  own  word, 
And  when  you  said  it.     He  will  love  his  horse 
Until  the  horse  falls  sick; 
His  armour,  till  the  steel  begins  to  wear. 
I  have  no  mind  to  trouble  you  with  him, 
My  lord.     'Tis  almost  vespers. 
Come,  here  is  food  and  drink.     Do  you  mean  to 

go 
The  way  of  the  seashore? 

[GlANCIOTTO  is  moody,  ichile  he  follows  Fran- 
cesca tovmrds  the  spread  table.  He  takes 
off  his  basnet,  unclasps  his  gorget  ^  and  gives 


FRANCESCA  DA  lilMINL  175 

them  to  his  wife,  who  sets  them  down  on  a 
seat,  with  sudden  (jraceful  movements,  talk- 
ing rajjidly]. 

You  will  have  all  the  freshness  of  the  night. 

It  is  September,  and  the  nights  are  soft; 

Just  before  midnifjht  the  moou  rises.     When 

Do  you  reach  Pesaro, 

Messere  il  Podesta? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

To-morrow  at  the  third  liour, 
For  I  must  stay  a  little  with  my  father 
In  passing  through  Gradara. 
[He  unbuckles  his  sword-belt  and  gives  it  to  his  ivife.] 

FRAN<'ESCA. 

Is  it  for  long  that  you  must  stay  at  Pesaro, 

Before  you  come  again? 

[The  terrible  a-y  o/Montagna  is  heard  from 
below.  Fkancesca  shudders,  and  lets  fall 
the  sword,  which  slips  from  its  scabbard.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

It  is  done  now. 
Do  not  be  frightened,  lady.    There  will  be 
Nothing  but  silence  now.     May  God  so  take 
The  he<ids  of  all  our  enemies!    From  this  forth 
Tliere  shall  no  wind  root  into  Rimino 
This  evil  seed  between  the  stones  of  it. 
And  may  God  scatter  it  out  of  all  Romagna 
In  this  most  bloody  year,  if  it  so  be 
He  wills  to  have  his  b(dy  Piaster  held 
liy  the    Guelfs    of  Calboli  with   the  Ghibellino 
blood 


176  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Of  Aldobrandin  degli  Argogliosi! 

[He  stoops  and  picks  up  the  bare  Made.] 

Pope 
Martino  is  dead  and  good  King  Carlo  went 
Before  liim  into  paradise.     That's  ill! 
As  for  this  Pietro  di  Stefano  that  Onorio 
Sends  us  for  governor, 
I  doubt  him,  he's  no  friend, 
He's  not  a  Polentani,  not  your  father's, 
Francesca.     We  shall  still  have  need  to  keep 
Our  swords  unsheathed,   and   eyes  in   all   our 
swords. 
[He  puts  himself  on  guard,  then  looks  along  the 
blade  from  the  hilt.] 
This  is  inflexible! 

[He  puts  it  back  in  its  scabbard.  ] 
Francesca. 
Give  it  to  me,  my  lord, 

1  will  not  let  it  fall  ^ 

Twice  over.     And  sit  down,  take  food  and  drink. 
[He  gives  her  the  sword  and  sits  down  on  the 
bench  before  the  table.  ] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Good  so,  my  own  dear  lady. 

I  talk  of  war  to  you,  and  now  I  think 

That  I  have  never  given  you  a  flower. 

Ah,  we  are  hard.     I  give  you  arms  in  heaps 

To  hold  in  those  white  hands, 

Malatestino  gave  to  you  at  least 

A  falcon.     Paolo  gives  you 

Flowers  perhaps.     The  Captain  of  the  People 

Learnt  all  the  courteous  virtues  in  his  Florence, 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  177 

But  left  his  force  upon  the  bauks  of  Arno 

And  now  is  more  in  love  with  idleness 

Than  auy  labour.     He  is  always  with 

His  music-makers. 

[He  breaks  the  bread  and  pours  out  the  wine, 
lohile  Francesca  sits  besides  him,  at  the 
table,  with  her  hands  on  the  hilt  of  the  sioord.  ] 
But  you, 

Francesca,  love  your  chamber-music  too. 

Are  not  your  women  ever  tired  of  singing? 

Their  voices  must  have  covered 

The  cries  of  Parcitade, 

Surely?     You  turn  the  tower 

Of  the  Malatesti 

Into  a  singing  wood  of  nightingales 
[lie  eats  and  drinks.] 

Francksca. 

I  and  Samaritana, 

My  sister,  at  Kavenna,  in  our  home, 

Lived  always,  always  in  the  midst  of  singing. 

Our  mother  had  indeed  a  throat  of  gold. 

From  our  first  infancy 

Music  flowed  over  us  and  bent  our  souls 

As  the  water  bends  the  grass  upon  tlie  bank. 

And  our  mother  said  to  me  : 

Sweet  singing  can  put  out  all  harmful  things. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

My  mother  said  to  us. 

Do  you  know  what  woman  is  a  proper  woman? 
She  that  in  spinning  thinks  upon  the  spindle, 
She  tliat  in  8])inning  spins  without  a  knot. 
She  that  in  spinning  lots  not  fall  the  spindle, 


178  FliANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

She  that  winds  thread  in  order  about  thread, 
She  that  knows  when  the  spindle  is  full  or  half- 
way. 

Francesca. 
Then  why  did  you  not  seek  for  such  a  woman, 
My  lord,  through  all  the  country? 

[A  knocking  is  heard  at   the  little  barred  door. 
Francesca  rises  to  her  feet,  drops  the  sword 
on  the  table  and  turns  to  go  out.] 
Malatestino  back ! 
I  will  not  wait  to  see  him. 

The  Voice  op  Malatestino. 

Who  has  shut  it? 
Kinswoman  are  you  there?    Have  you  shut  me 
in? 

[He  kicks  at  the  door.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Wait,  wait,  and  I  will  open! 

The  Voice  of  Malatestino. 

Ah,  Giovanni! 
Open,  and  I  will  bring  you 
A  good  ripe  heavy  fruit, 
Food  for  yonr  journey: 
A  ripe  September  fig. 
And  how  it  weighs ! 

[GlANCIOTTO  goes  to  the  door  to  open  it.  Fran- 
cesca follows  his  limping  steps  for  some 
instants  loith  her  eyes,  then  moves  toioards 
the  door  that  leads  to  her  rooms,  and  goes 
out.] 

Be  quick! 


FRANCESCA  DA   BUIINI.  179 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Why,  here  I  am. 

{He  opens  the  door,  and  Malatestino  appears 
in  the  narrow  doorway  holding  in  his  left 
hand  the  lighted  torch,  in  his  right,  by  a 
knotted  cord,  the  head  of  Montagna 
wrapped  in  a  cloth.] 

Maxatestino 
[Handing  the  torch  to  his  brother]. 
Here,  brother,  put  it  out. 
[Giovanni  stamps  out  the  flame  iinder  his  foot.] 

Was  not  your  wife 
With  you? 

GlANCIOTTO 

[Roughly]. 
She  was  with  me? 
What  do  you  want  of  her? 

Malatestino. 

Ah,  then  you  know 
What  fruit  it  is  I  am  bringing  to  your  table? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Did  you  not  fear  to  disobey  our  father? 

Malatestino. 
Feel  how  it  weighs!  now  feel ! 

[He  hands  the  bundle  to  (iiovANXl,  who  loeighs 
it  in  his  hand,  and  let-t  it  full  on  the  pavement 
with  a  dull  thud.] 
It  is  yours;  it  is  the  head 
Of  Montagna  dei  Parcitadi;  take  it. 
It  is  for  your  saddle  bow, 
For  you  to  carry  with  you  to  Gadara 
And  leave  it  with  our  father,  and  say  to  him: 


ISO  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

"Malatestino  sends  you 

This  token,  lest  you  doubt  his  guardianship, 

And  pledges  you  his  word 

He  will  not  let  the  prisoner  escape; 

And  asks  you  in  return 

The  three  foot  black  white-spotted  horse  you 
said 

That  you  would  give  him, 

With  saddle  set  with  gold." 

How  hot  it  is! 

[He  wipes  the  sweat  from  Ms  forehead.     Gianci- 
OTTO  has  seated  himself  again  at  the  tahle.\ 
I  tell  you, 

When  the  light  struck  upon  his  eyes,  he  snorted. 

As  a  horse  does  when  it  shies.  Give  me  to 
di'ink. 
\Ue  drains  a  cup  that  stands  full.  Gianciotto 
seems  gloomy,  and  chews  in  silence,  without 
swallowing,  like  an  ox  ruminating.  The 
slayer  o/MoNTAGNAsifs  wliere  Francesca 
hadheen  sitting.  The  blood-stained  bundle 
lies  on  the  pavement ;  through  the  window 
can  he  seen  the  sun  as  it  sets  behind  the  Apen- 
nines, crimsoning  the  peaks  and  the  clouds.] 

You  are  not  wroth  with  me? 

You  did  not  want  to  have  us  wait  a  year 

In  hopes  of  i-ansom  from  the  Perdecittade? 

I  tell  you  we  should  not  have  had  the  ransom, 

Sure  as  a  florin's  yellow. 

From  this  day  backwards 

The  Malatesti  never  have  given  quarter, 

Since  they  first  cut  their  teeth. 

It  is  not  two  months  now,  at  Cesena,  our  father 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  181 

Just  saved  his  skin  by  a  mere  miracle 

From  the  clutches  of  Corrado  Montefeltvo, 

And  the  bastard  Filipuccio  is  still  living! 

Heaven  bless  and  save 

Frate  Alberigo, 

Who  knows  full  well  the  way  to  spare  at  once 

Both  trunk  and  branches! 

It  is  time  now  for  every  Ghibelline 

To  come  to  his  desert, 

As  the  gay  Knight  would  have  us. 

[He  takes  the  nword  lying  across  the  table,  and 

strikes  the  scabbard  witlthis  hnnd.\ 
And  here  is  the  dessert  for  every  feast 
Of  peace  and  amity. 
Do  not  be  wroth  with  me, 
Giovanni,  I  am  yours. 
Are  you  not  called  the  Lamester 
And  am  I  not  the  One-eyed?  .  .  . 

\He  is  silent  an  instant,  deceitfully.] 
But  Paolo  is  the  Beautiful ! 

[GlANCiOTTO  lifts  his  head  and  gazes  fixedly  at 

Malatkstino.     In  the  silence  is  heard  the 

jingling  of  his  spurs   as  he  moves   his  foot 

restlessly  on  the  floor.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

You  are  a  babbler  too? 

[Mai.atkstino  is  about  to  pour  out  more  wine. 
Ilis  brother  arrests  his  Itand.  | 
No,  do  not  drink. 
But  answer  me.    What  is  it  you  have  done 
To  vex  Francesca? 
What  have  you  done  to  her? 


l82  FRANCE SC A  DA  RlMINl 

Malatestino. 
I!    Wbat  is  it  she  says? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

You  have  changed  colour. 

Malatestino. 
^\^lat  is  it  she  says? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Answer  me  now ! 

Malatestino. 

[Pretending  to  be  confused.] 

I  cannot  answer  you. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

What  do  you  harbour  against  her  iu  your  mind? 
Malatestino 
[  ]VUh  a  gleam  in  his  eye]. 
She  told  you  this  ?    And   did   she  not  change 

colour 
While  she  was  saying  it  ? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Enough,  Malatestino! 
Look  at  me  in  the  eyes. 

I  limp  iu  going,  but  I  go  straight  before  me. 
You  go  a  crooked  way,  and  you  smooth  out 
The   sound   your  feet   have  made.     Only,  take 

heed 
I  do  not  set  my  hand  upon  you.     There 
You  would  writhe  your  best  in  vain. 
So  now  I  say  to  you : 
Woe  to  you  if  you  touch  my  lady !    You, 
You  should  know,  having  seen  me  at  the  work, 
That  a  less  time  it  is 


FEAXCESCA  DA   BIMINI.  ISS 

Between  the  touch  of  the  spur  and  the  first  leap 
Of  the  Barbary  horse 

Than  between  my  saying  and  doing.   Think  of  it. 
Malatestino 
\I)i  a  low  voice,  with  downcast  eye]. 
And  if  the  brother  sees  that  there  is  one 
That  touches  of  a  truth  his  brother's  wife. 
And  is  incensed  at  it,  and  stirs  himself 
To  wipe  the  shame  out,  does  he  therefore  sin? 
And  if,  for  this,  he  is  accused  to  have 
Harboured  ill  thought  j  gainst  the  woman,  say: 
Is  the  accusation  just? 

[GiANCiOTTO  sprirtf/K  up  and  raises  his  fists  as 
if  to  crush  the  yontJi.  But  he  restrains  him- 
self, his  arms  fall.] 

GlANCIOTTO 

Malatestino,  scourge  of  hell,  if  you 

Would  hnve  :ne  not  put  out 

The  other  cy  by  which  your  blinking  soul 

Offends  the  world,  speak  now, 

And  tell  mv,  wliat  it  is  that  you  have  seen. 

[Malatkstino  rises  and  goes  with  his  silent, 
cat-like  sUps  to  the  door  near  Vie  table.  He 
listens  for  some  instants;  then  opens  the  door 
suddenly  vnlh  a  svnft  movement ,  and  looks. 
He  sees  no  one  Ueyoes  back  to  his  brother's 
side. 
Speak. 

Mai^atestino. 
Not  for  threats.     Yi>u  frighten  me,  I  say. 
Because  I  woio  no  visor,  F  was  made 
Blind  of  one  eye;  l»ut  you  must  wear  indoors 


184  FRANCESCA  DA  RTMINI. 

Visor  and  headpiece,  cliiu-piece,  eye-piece,  all 
Of  tempered  steel,  without  a  flaw  in  it! 
You  will  see  nothing,  nothing  can  come  through 
The  iron-harred  approaches  to  your  brain. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Come,  come,   the   thing!    None    of   your   talk! 

The  thing! 
Tell  me  what  you  have  seen!    Tell  me  the  man! 

Malatestino. 
Were  you  nowise  surprised 
When  some  one  who  had  gone  away  from  here 
No  later  than  December,  suddenly 
Gave  up  his  post  at  Florence 
And  was  already  back  by  February? 

[One  of  the  silver  cups  is  heard  to  crack,  as  it  is 
crushed  in  Gianciotto's  hand.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Paolo?    No,  no.     It  is  not. 

[He  rises,  leaves  the  table,  and  walks  to  and  fro 
in  the  room,  grimly,  xoitJh  overclouded  eyes. 
He  stumbles  against  the  blood-stained  bun- 
dle. He  goes  toivards  the  loindow,  whose 
panes  glitter  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
He  sits  down  on  the  window-seat,  and  takes 
his  head  between  his  hands,  as  if  to  collect 
his  thoughts.  Malatestino  plays  ivith  the 
sword,  drawing  it  half  in  and  half  out  of  the 
scabbard.] 

Malatestino,  here! 
[The  youth  comes  across  to  him  swiftly,  almost 
lolthout  sound,  as  if  his  feet  were  shod  with 
felt.     GlANCIOTTO  enfolds  him  in  his  arms. 


FRANCESCA  DA    RIMINI.  185 

and  holds  him  tightly  between  hin  armoured 
knees,  and  Speaks  to  him  breath  to  breath.] 
Are  you  sure?     Have  you  seen  this? 
Malatestino. 
Yes. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

How  and  when? 

Malatestino. 
I  have  seen  him  often  enter  .  .  . 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Enter  where? 
Malatestino. 
Enter  the  room. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Well?    That  is  not  enough. 
He  is  a  kinsman.     They  might  talk  together. 
There  are  the  women  .  .  .  You  have  seen  him 

With  the  musicians,  it  may  be  .  .  . 

Malatestino. 

At  night. 
For  God's  sake,  do  not  hurt  me !    Not  so  hard  ! 
You  have  your  iron  gauntlets.     Let  me  go. 
[lie  writhes  in  his  grasp.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Have  I  heard  right?    You  said  .  .  . 
Say  it  again. 

Malatestino. 

At  night, 
At  night,  I  say,  I  have  seen  liim. 


186  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

If  you  should  lie,  I  will  break 
Your  body  in  two. 

Malatestino. 

At  night, 
I  have  seen  him  enter,  and  go  out  at  dawn. 
You  were  in  arms  against  the  Urbinati. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

I  will  break  you,  if  you  lie. 

Malatestino. 
Would  you  like  to  see  and  feel  ? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

I  must  do  so. 
If  you  have  any  will  to  go  alive 
Out  of  these  mortal  pincers. 

Malatestino. 

Then,  to-night? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

To-night,  then. 

Malatestino. 
But  can  you  find  out  the  way 
To  cheat,  to  smile?    Ah,  no,  you  cannot  smile. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Let  my  revenge  teach  me  the  way  to  smile, 
If  my  delight  could  never. 

Malatestino. 

Can  you  kiss 
Both,  one  after  the  other,  and  not  bite 
Instead? 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Yes,  I  will  kiss  them,  thinking  them 
Already  dead. 


FBANCESCA  DA   BIMINI.  187 

Malatestixo. 

You  must  put  both  your  arms 
About  them,  you  must  talk  to  tbem,  and  not 
Tremble. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Ah,  you  are  playing  with  my  sorrow  I 
Beware!  it  has  two  edges. 

Malatestino. 

Do  not  hurt  me, 
For  God's  sake! 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Good;  but  tell  me  how  you  think: 
The  way,  and  speedily. 

Malatestino. 

You  must  take  your  leave, 
And  go  from  here,  take  horse,  and  by  the  gate 
Of  San  Genesio  with  all  your  escort 
Set  out  for  Pesaro.     I  will  come  with  you. 
You  will  say  you  arc  wroth  with  me 
For  the  Parcitade's  head's  sake,  and  desire 
To  take  nie  to  our  father  at  (Jradara, 
That  he  may  punish  me  or  pardon  me. 
So  they  will  think 

That  they  arc  left  alone.     Do  you  understand? 
Then,  half-way  through  the  night. 
We  will  leave  the  escort,  and  come  back  again, 
And  enter  by  the  gate  of  the  Gattolo 
Before  the  moon  is  up.     We  will  give  the  signal 
To  Rizio.     But  let  me  dispose  of  that. 
Saddle  your  swiftest  horse,  and  take  witli  you 
A  little  linen 
To  bind  about  his  hoofs,  in  case  of  need. 


188  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Because  at  night  the  stones 

Upon  the  noisy  way 

May  well  be  traitors,  brother. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Then  shall  I  see? 
You  are  sure?    Then  I  shall  take  them  in  the 
act  .... 

Malatestino. 

Not  so  hard!     Now  I  think, 

There  is  the  slave,  there  is  the  Cyprian 
slave  .... 

She  is  their  go-between. 

Sly  is  she,  works  with  charms  .... 

I  have  seen  her  as  she  goes 

Snuffing  the  wind.  ...  I  must  find  a  way  to 
lead  her 

Into  a  snare,  and  blindfold  her.     But  this, 

Leave  this  to  me:  you  need  not  think  of  any- 
thing 

Till  you  are  at  the  door. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

On  your  life  now,  shall  I  take  them  in  the  act? 

Mai.atestino. 
Enough  of  this,  by  God ! 
Let  me  go,  now,  let  me  go!    I  am  not 
Tour  pre  J'. 

[Through  the  door  is  heard  the  voice  0/ Paolo.] 
Paolo 

\Outside\.  ^ 

Where  is  Giovanni? 

IGiANCiOTTO   lets  Malatestino  go,  and  rises 
with  a  white  face.] 


FRANCESCA  DA  BIMINL  189 

Malatestino. 

Look  to  it  now, 
Look  to  it;  no  suspicion! 
[As  Paolo  oijens  the  door  and  enters,  Malates- 
tino pretends   to   be   awjry  loith  GiANCi- 

OTTO.) 

Ah,  at  last 
You  have  let  me  go ! 

[He  pretends  to  suffer  in  his  lorists.] 

By  God,  it  is  well  for  you 
You  were  born  my  elder  brother,  otherwise.  .  . . 
Ah,  Paolo,  well  met! 

[Paolo  wears  a  long  rich  surtout  falling  beloio 
his  knees  nearly  to  the  ankle,  girt  at  the 
waist  by  a  jewelled  belt  through  which  is 
thrust  a  beautiful  damascened  dagger.  His 
curled  hair,  not  parted,  but  waving  in  a 
mass,  surrounds  his  face  like  a  cloud.} 
Paolo. 
"What  is  the  matter? 

Malatestino. 
See, 
Giovanni  is  cnra^eA 

Becausf  I  have  lost  all  patience  at  the  last 
And  liave  struik  dumb  Montaj^na,  bein<f  weary 
Of  listen! iij;  to  Ids  cries  (Francosca  too 
Could  get  no  sleep)  and  weary  too  of  hearing 
My  fatiier  say  twice  over. 
By  word  of  mouth  and  message; 
"Will  you  keep  watch  on  liim? 
Are  you  sure  you  can  keep  watch? 
I  know  he  will  escape; 


190  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

I  know  that  you  will  let  liim  go,  and  then, 
When   he    has  gone,   you   will  not  bring  him 

back!" 
By  God,  I  was  tired  of  it.     There  is  his  head. 

Paolo. 
You  cut  it  off  yourself  ? 

Malatestino. 

Yes,  I  myself, 
And  neatly. 

[Paolo  looks  at  the  bundle,  hut  draws  back  so 
as  not  to  stain  himself  with  the  dripping 
blood.  ] 
Ah,  you  draw  back,  it  seems 
You  fear  to  stain  your  garments? 
I  did  not  know  I  had 
Two  sisters,  both  so  dainty ! 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Enough  of  jesting!    Paolo, 

I  have  to  take  him  with  me  to  Gradara, 

To  our  father;  he  must  plead 

His  cause  himself. 

For  disobeying.     What  do  you  say  to  it  ? 

Paolo. 
I  say  that  it  is  well  for  him  to  go, 
Giovanni. 

Malatestino. 
I  am  content. 
But  I  must  bear  the  token ; 
I  will  hang  it  to  my  saddle:  that  is  staunch. 

[He  takes  up  the  bundle  by  the  cord.] 
I  have  no  fear  our  father  will  be  angry. 
He  will  be  filled  with  joy, 


PRANCESCA  DA  lilMINi.  191 

I  tell  you,  when  the  knots  are  all  untied. 
And  he  will  give  nie  the  hlack  horse  for  war, 
And  maybe  the  grey  jennet  for  the  chase. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Get  ready  then,  and  without  lingering, 
It  is  already  evening. 

[ilALATESTiNo  tokes  up  the  bundle  to  carry  it 
aioay.] 

Paolo 
[To  Giovanni]. 
I  see  your  men  are  armed  at  front  and  back, 
And  wait  the  clarion. 

[The  tioo  brother.t  rjo  towards  the  window  lit  up 
by  the  nunset,  and  sit  down.] 
Malatestino 
[Goinij]. 
Ah,  but  how  heavy!  and  without  a  helmet! 
The  Parcitadi  always  were  gross  oxen, 
Fatted  for  slaughtering,  great  horned  heads. 
Ah,  Paozzo,  where  you  go 
You  leave  behind  a  scent  of  orange-water. 
Take  care,  a  drop  may  drip  upon  your  clothes. 
[IJe  goes  out.] 

Paolo. 
He  is  all  teeth  and  claws,  ready  for  biting. 
Our  men  at  arms  used  once 
To  say  he  always  slept  with  one  eye  closed 
And  one  eye  open,  even  in  his  sleep. 
Now  I  believe  he  never  sleeps  at  all, 
Nor  slacks  the  sinews  of  his  cruelty. 
He  was  made  to   conquer  lands,  and   die  some 
day 


102  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI. 

Of   extreme    cold,    God    keep    him,   our  good 

brother! 
So  you  are  Podesta  of  Pesaro ! 
Our  father  from  Gradara  scans  the  hill 
Of  Pesaro  as  if  he  watched  his  prey. 
You,  with  your  strength  and  wisdom, 
Should  give  it  to  him  soon, 
Giovanni. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

It  is  not  a  year  yet  since 
You  went  to  Florence,  Captain  of  the  People, 
And  now  I  go  as  Podesta    Not  long 
You  stayed  at  Florence.    I  shall  stay  there  long, 
Because  it  is  not  well  for  me  to  yield 
The  office  to  another.    Yet  to  leave 
Francesca  for  so  long, 
Goes  to  my  heart  a  little. 

Paolo. 
You  can  come  back  again  from  time  to  time, 
Pesaro  is  not  far. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

The  Podesta  is  not  allowed  to  leave 

His  post,  so  long  as  lasts 

His  office,  as  you  know,  nor  bring  with  him 

His  wife.     But  I  will  leave  her  in  your  care, 

Brother,  my  most  dear  wife;  you  will  be  here. 

Paolo. 
I  have  held  her  always 
As  a  dear  sister  might  be  held. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

I  know, 
Paolo. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  193 

Paolo. 
Be  very  sure 
That  I  will  guard  her  for  you  well. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

I  know, 
Paolo.     You  from  Ravenna 
Brought  her  a  virgin  to  your  brother's  bed 
And  you  will  keep  her  for  me  from  all  harm. 

Paolo. 
I  will  tell  Orabile 
To  leave  Ghaggiolo  and  come 
To  Rimino  to  keep  her  company. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

See  that  they  love  each  other,  Paolo, 
For  they  are  kinswomen. 
Paolo. 

Francesca  often 
Sends  gifts  to  her. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Go,  call  her.     It  is  late. 
The  sun  has  set,  and  I  shall  have  to  rest 
A  little  at  firadara, 
And  yet  be  at  tlie  gates 
Of  Pesaro  before  the  tliird  hour.     Go, 
Go  you  yourself  and  call  lier.     She  has  gone 
Back  to  her  room,  because  Malatestino 
Frighted  her  witli  his  cruelty.     Go  you, 
Comfort  her,  tell  her  not  to  be  afraid 
Of  being  left  alone,  and  call  her  here. 

[lie  risf.H  and  pulu  his  hand  liij/dli/  on  liln 
brother' H  Hhonld'-r  as  if  foiirf/c  him.  Paolo 
goes  towards  the  door.    Giovanni  stands 


194  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

motionless,  and  follow  Jiiiii  with  murderous 
eyes.  As  he  goes  out,  Giovanni  stretches 
out  Jiis  hand  as  if  to  swear  an  oath.  Then 
he  moves  towards  the  table,  and  takes  up  the 
cracked  cup,  wishing  to  hide  it.  lie  turns, 
sees  the  little  barred  door  still  open,  throws 
the  cup  into  the  darkness,  and  closes  the 
door.  At  the  other  door  Francesca  ap- 
pears by  the  side  o/ Paolo.] 
Francesca. 

Pardon  me,  my  dear  lord, 
-    If  I  have  left  you  hastily.    You  know 

The  reason. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

My  dear  lady,  I  know  well 
The  reason,  and  I  am  sorry 
That  you  have  had  to  suffer  by  the  fault 
Of  this  sad  brother.     And  I  go  to  see 
Both  to  your  peace  and  to  his  punishments 
For  I  intend  to  take  him  to  our  father, 
For  judgment  at  Gradara.     He  prepares 
Already  to  set  forth.     Within  a  little 
We  shall  have  left  the  city. 

Francesca. 
He  will  bear 
Ill-will  against  me,  if  you  should  accuse  him 
Before  his  father.    Pardon  him,  I  pray. 
He  is  a  boy. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Yet,  lady,  it  is  better, 
For  your  sake,  that  he  comes  with  me.     I  leave 
Paolo  with  you.    Trust  Paolo,    His  Orabile 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  195 

Will  come  to  stay  with  you  at  Rimino, 
And  keep  you  company:  he  promises. 
Often  from  Pesaro 

I  mean  to  send  you  messages,  and  hope 
Often  to  have  the  like  from  Rimino. 

Francesca. 
Surely,  my  lord.    You  need  not  fear  for  me. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Put  every  trouble  freely  from  your  mind, 

Let  songs  and  music  give  you  joy,  and  have 

Beautiful  robes,  and  lovely  odours.     Not 

To  Guido's  daughter  suits  the  spinning  wheel. 

I  know  it.    And  I  say 

My  mother's  saying  but  to  make  you  smile. 

You  are  not  angry  with  me? 

Fkancesca. 

In  your  saying 
There  seems  to  lie  secret  rebuke  for  me, 
My  lord. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

A  good  old  saying,  that  was  born 
Within  the  dark  walls  of  Verrucchio, 
That  now  are  grown  too  narrow  to  hem  in 
Tlio  Malatesi  in  our  house  to-day. 
If  any  spin,  they  spin 

Only  the  jMirple,  and  with  golden  distaffs. 
Come  to  my  arms,  my  most  dear  lady! 

[Fkancksca  (jof'H  up  to  him;  he.  takes  her  in 
his  arrnx  and  kinHcn  her.  Paoi.o  stand>i  si- 
lent in  the  d(jorivay.] 

Now 
I  have  to  say  farewell.     Never  so  fair 


196  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Tou  seemed  to  me,  never  so  sweet.     And  yet 
I  leave  you. 

[He  smooths  her  hair  with  his  hand;  then  looses 
her.] 

O,  my  brother, 
Keep  her  in  safety  and  heaven  keep  you  both. 
Come,  and  pledge  faith  with  me. 

[Paolo  goes  np  to  him,  and  they  embrace.] 

Where  is  my  gorget? 

Frakcesca. 
Here  it  is. 

[She  gives  it  to  him.] 

GlANCIOTTO 

[Putting  it  on]. 
Paolo,  buckle  it  for  me. 
[PAOL.O  buckles  it  on.     Francesca  hands  him 
the  basnet.] 
Do  you  remember,  brother, 
That  night  before  the  Mastra  Tower,  that  bolt 
Out  of  a  crossbow?    You, 
Fi-ancesca,  do  you  remember? 
It  was  at  just  this  hour. 

Cignatta  was  killed  then.     To-day  Montagna 
Joins  him.     'Tisnot  a  year. 
The  house  is  silent  now ;  then,  all  the  towers 
Were  crackling  to  the  sky. 

[Francesca  takes  the  sword  from  the  table  and 
buckles  his  sword-belt.] 
Francesca,  do  you  remember?     Then   you  gave 
us 


FRANCESCA  DA  HUIINI.  197 

Wine,  Scian  wine,  to  drink.     We  drank  together 
Out  of  one  cup. 

[He  isfullij  aimed.] 

Now  let  me  drink  again ! 
Fkancesca. 
One  of  the  cups  is  missing.    There  were  two. 
Where  is  the  other? 

[She  looks  to  see  if  it  has/alien.] 

GlANCIOTTO. 

One  will  do  for  us 
Still. 

[He  pours  out  the  wine  and  offers  it  to  Fran- 

CESCA.] 

And  good  luck  God  give  you! 

Fkancesca. 

I  cannot  drink 
This  wine,  my  lord.     I  am  not  used  to  it. 

GlANCIOTTO. 

Drink  as  you  drank  then,  and  pass  on  the  cup 
That  your  kinsman  may  drink  also,  as  he  drank 
then 
|FuAN('KSCA     drinks   and     offers    the     cup    to 
Paolo,  loho  takes  it.] 
Paolo. 
Good  luck  to  the  Podestii  of  Pesaro! 

[He    drinks    throunn;/    hack    his    curled   head. 
Through  the   door    is   heard    the   voice    of 
Malatestino,  who  throxos   open  the  door, 
and   appears   in  full   armour.      From    the 
court  is  heard  the  sound  of  bwjles.] 
Malatestino. 
Keady,  Giovanni?     Hark,  the  clarion  ! 
To  horse:    Tohf)rsc! 

/I 


ACT  V. 

The  room  with  the  curtained  alcove,  the  musicians* 
gallery,  the  lectern  with  the  book  closed.  Four 
waxen  torches  burn  in  the  iron  candlestick  ;  two 
tapers  on  the  small  table.  The  compartments  of 
the  long  window  are  almost  all  open  to  the  peaceful 
night  air.  The  pot  of  basil  is  on  the  loindotv-sill, 
and  beside  it  is  a  gilt  plate  heaped  with  bunches  of 
early  grapes. 

[Francesca  is  seen  through  the  half-drawn  cur- 
tains of  the  alcove,  lying  on  the  bed,  on  xohich 
she  has  laid  herself  without  undressing. 
The  Women,  who  wear  white  fillets,  are 
seated  on  loio  stools  ;  they  speak  quietly, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  their  mistress.  Near 
them,  on  a  stool,  are  laid  five  silver  lamps, 
which  have  gone  oiaL] 

Adonella. 
She  has  fallen  asleep.     She  dreams. 

[BiANCOFiORE  rises  and  goes  softly  up  to  the 
alcove,  looks,  then  turns,  and  goes  back  to 
her  seat] 

BlANCOFIORE. 

How  beautiful  she  is ! 

Altichiara. 
Summer  is  come;  she  grows 
lu  beauty  with  the  summer. 


FBANCESCA  DA   EIMINI.  199 

Alda, 
Like  ears  of  corn. 

Gaksenda. 
And  like 
Poppies. 

BlANCOFIOKE. 

O,  beautiful 
Summer,  go  not  away  ! 
The  nights  begin  to  grow  a  little  cool. 
Do  you  feel  the  breeze  ? 

Alda. 

It  comes 
From  the  sea.     Oh,  the  delight! 
[  With  her  face  to  the  window,  she  draws  in  a  long 
breath | 
Adonella. 
Lord  Autumn  comes  our  way 
With  grass  and  figs  in  his  lap. 

BlANCOKIOIlE. 

September !    Grape  and  fig  begin  to  droop. 
Altichiaka 
[Pointing  to  the  plate]. 
Here,  Adonella,  take 
A  bunch  of  grapes  to  strip. 
Adonella. 

You  are  too  greedy. 
Altichiaka. 
Come,  come,  your  mouth  is  watering  for  them. 
[Adonella  takes  a  bunch  of  grapes  from  the 
plate,  and  goes  back  to  her  seat,  holding  the 
bunch  in  the  air,  while  the  others  atrip  it  of 
its  grapes. ) 


200  FRANCESCA  I)A  RIMINI. 

BlANCOFlORE. 

It  is  like  sweet  muscatel. 
Alda. 
Don't  throw  away  the  skin! 

Altichiara. 
It  is  all  good  to  eat,  kernel  and  skin. 

Garsenda. 
Here  is  a  bitter  kernel. 

BlANCOFlORE. 

Grown  on  the  shady  side. 

Adonella. 
How  still  it  is! 

Alda. 
How  tranquil! 
Garsenda. 
Listen!    I  hear  a  galley 
Weigh  anchor. 

BlANCOFlORE. 

For  to-night 
Madonna  has  no  singing. 

Altichiara. 

She  is  weary. 

Alda. 
Why  does  the  prisoner 
Cry  out  no  moi-e? 

Garsenda. 
Messer  Malatestino  has  cut  off 
His  head. 

Alda. 
Is  that  the  truth  ? 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  201 

Garsenda. 
The  truth ;  to-day,  at  Vespers. 
Alda. 

How  do  you  know? 

Garsenda. 
Smaragdi  told  it  me, 
And  had  seen  him,  too. 

Tie  something  huddled  in  a  cloth  to  his  saddle, 
When,  with  Messer  Giovanni 
He  mounted  in  the  court.     It  was  the  head, 
The  prisoner's  head. 

Adonella. 
Where  do  they  carry  it? 
Altichiara. 
To  whom  do  they  carry  it? 

BlANCOFIOBE. 

Now  they  are  riding 
By  the  sea  shore, 
Under  the  stars. 
They  and  the  murdered 
Head ! 

Adonella. 
Where  will  they  have  come? 
Alda. 

They  should  have  come 
To  hell,  and  stayed  there! 

Garsenda. 
One  can  breathe  in  the  house 
Now  they  are  here  no  longer, 
The  lame  man  and  the  blind  man ! 


202  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Altichiara. 
Hush !  hush !  let  not  Madonna 
Hear  you. 

Garsenda. 
She  is  hardly  breathing. 
Alda. 

Messer  Paolo 
Is  back  again? 

Altichiara. 
Hush ! 
[Francesca  groans  in  her  sleepl. 
Adonella. 

She  is  wakening. 
\She  throws  the  grape-stalk  out  of  the  window. 
BiANCOFioRE  again  rises,  and  goes  up  to 
the  alcove,  and  looks.] 

BlANCOFIORE. 

No, 
She  is  not  awake;  she  is  crying  in  her  sleep. 

Adonella. 
She  is  dreaming. 

Alda. 
O  Garsenda,  does  she  know 
The  prisoner  is  not  crying  any  more 
Because  they  have  cut  his  head  off? 

Garsenda. 

Certainly 
She  knows. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Perhaps  she  is  dreaming  of  it  now. 


FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  203 

Adonella. 
We  must  sit  up  to-night, 
Who  knows  to  what  hour? 
Alda. 

Are  you  sleepy,  Adonella? 
Altichiara. 
Simonetto,  the  fifer,  is  waiting  on  the  stairs! 

Adonella. 
Who  waits  for  you,  then?    Suzzo,  the  falconer, 
With  lure  of  pretty  leather? 
Alda. 
Hush !    She  is  wakening. 

BlANCOFIOEE. 

And  did  it  bleed,  Garsenda? 
Garsenda. 
Bleed?    What? 

BlANCOFIORE. 

That  bundle  at  the  saddle-bow? 

GAIiSENDA. 

I  saw  but  dimly,  for  the  court  was  dark. 
But  this  I  know  :  Smaragdi  had  to  wash 
The  pavement,  there,  in  the  hall. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Now  they  are  neariug  the  Cattolica. 

Garsenda. 
God  keep  them  far  away,  and  let  them  never 
Find  their  way  back  again! 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Think  of  the  frightened  horse 

Feeling  the  dead  thing  dangle  in  the  night! 


204  FBANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

Adonella. 
How  sweetly  the  sweet  basil  smells  by  uiglitl 

Altichiara. 
How  thick  it  throws;  the  pot 
No  longer  holds  it. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

You  know,  Grarsenda,  tell  us 
The  story  of  Lisabetta  of  Messina, 
That  loved  a  youth  of  Pisa,  and  how  her  brothers 
Killed  him  in  secret,  and  she  found  his  body 
And  cut  the  head  away 
From  off  the  shoulders,  set  it  in  a  pot, 
And  earth  with  it,  and  planted 
A  sprig  of  basil  plant, 
And  watered  it  with  her  tears, 
And  saw  it  blossom  so,  out  of  her  weeping. 
Tell  us,  Garsenda,  very  quietly 
While  we  are  waiting. 

[Francesca  gives  a  deeper  groan,  and  turns  as 
if  half  stifled  on  the  bed.  The  Women 
shiver.  ] 

Alda. 

Listen, 
She   is  crying   in  her   sleep.      It  is  some   bad 
dream. 

Garsenda. 

She  is  sleeping    on  her  back;  the    nightmare 

weighs 
Upon  her  breast. 

Altichiara. 
Shall  we  awake  her? 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  205 

BlANCOFIOKE. 

Evil 
It  is  too  suddenly 
To  rouse  the  heart  that  sees. 
How  should  we  know 
What  truth  she  sees  revealed? 

Adonella. 
The  Slave  interprets  all  her  dreams  to  her. 
[Fbancesca  ttifers  a  cry  of  terror,  si^rings  from 
the  bed,  and  seems  in  the  act  to  fly  from  some 
savage  pursuit,  throwing  out  her  hands  as  if 
to  unloose  herself  from  some  grasp.] 

Francesca. 

No,  no,  it  is  not  I,  it  is  not  I! 

Ah,  ah,  they  seize  me  with  their  teeth!     Help! 
help! 

They  snatch  my  heart.     Help,  help! 

Paolo! 

[She  shudders,  stops,  and  turns  on  herself,  pale, 
and  breathing  with  difficulty,  vihilc  her 
Women  surround  her  in  consternation,  try- 
ing to  comfort  her.  \ 

Gaksenda. 
Madonna,  Madonna,  we  are  here,  see,  see, 
We  are  here.  Madonna. 

ALTinilAUA. 

Do  not  bo  afraid  ! 
Adoneli-a. 
There  is  no  one  here ;  there  is  no  one  here  but  we, 
Madonna.     No  one  is  harming  you.  Madonna, 


206  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Francesca 
[Shivering]. 
What  have  I  said?    Did  I  call? 
O  God,  what  have  I  done? 
Alda. 
You  have  had  some  discomfortable  dream, 
Madonna. 

Garsenda. 
Now  it  is  finished.     We  are  here. 
All's  quiet. 

Francesca. 
Is  it  late? 

BlANCOFIOEE. 

The  sweat  is  standing  out  upon  your  forehead. 
[She  wipes  it  off.] 
Francesca. 
Is  it  night  yet  ?     Garsenda, 
Biancofiore,  Alda,  you  are  all  in  white. 

Garsenda. 
It  might  perhaps  be  four  hours  after  midnight, 
Madonna. 

Francesca. 
Have  I  slept  so  long  ?  Smaragdi, 
Where  is  Smaragdi  ? 
She  has  not  come  back  yet  ? 

Biancofiore. 

She  has  not  come  back. 
Fkajncesca. 
Why  has  she  not  come  back? 


FEANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  207 

BlANCOFIORE 

When  did  you  seud  her, 
Madonna? 

Francesca. 
Are  you  not  mistaken  ?    Sleep, 
Perhaps,  deceived  you,  and  you  did  not  see  her 
When  she  came  in. 

Garsenda. 
Madonna, 
No,  none  of  us  closed  eyelid; 
We  watched  beside  you  all  the  night. 
Adonella. 

Perhaps 
She  has  come  back,  and  waits,  as  she  is  wout 
Lying  without  the  door. 

Francesca. 

Look  out  and  see, 
Adonella,  see  if  she  is  there. 
[Adonella  draws  back  the  folds  of  the  curtain 
opens  the  door,  and  looks  out.] 
Adonella. 

Smaragdi! 
Smaragdi !    There  is  no  answer. 
No  one  is  there.     It  is  all  dark. 

FrANX'ESCA. 


Call  her  again. 


But  call, 

AnONELL.V. 

Smaragdi! 
Francesca. 

Take  a  light. 


208  FBANCESCA  DA  EIMTNI. 

[Garsenda  takes  one  of  the  lamps,  Uf/Ms  it  at  a 

taper,  and  goes  to  the  door.     She  and  her 

companion  look  around.] 

She  should  have  beeu  here  now  some  time  ago. 

What  harm  can  have  befallen  her?    God  knows 

what; 
It  can  be  no  good  thing. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

You  have  not  yet 
Come  quite  out  of  the  horror  of  the  dream, 
Madonna. 

Altichiara.  -^ 

Breathe  the  air,  the  night  is  fresh, 
The  night  is  still. 

Francesca. 
The  moon 
Is  risen? 

Alda. 
It  must  be  rising  on  the  hills. 
But  there  is  yet  no  dawn  upon  the  sea. 
IAdonei.i.a  and  Garsenda  re-enter.     One  of  them 
puts  out  the  lamp.] 

Francesca 
[anxiously]. 
Well?    Is  she  there? 

Garsenda. 
Madonna,  there  is  no  one. 

Adonella. 
Nothing  but  silence 
And   darkness    everywhere;    the   whole   house 
sleeps. 


FRANCESCA  DA  EIMINL  209 

Garsenda. 
We  only  saw  .  .  . 

[She  hesitates.] 

Fkancesca. 

You  ouly  saw  .  .  .  whom  did  you  see? 

Garsexda 

[hesltatiny]. 

Madonna, 
Some  one  was  there  .  .  .   some  one  was  standing 

there, 
Leaning  against  the  wall  .  .  . 
Still  as  a  statue  .  .  .  all  alone  ...    his  girdle 
Shining  .  .   .    Madonna,  do  not  be  afraid  .  .  . 

[Goes  near  to  her  and  lowers  her  voice.} 
It  was  Messer  Paolo ! 

Fkancesca 
[startled]. 

O,  why? 
Adonella. 

Madonna 
Will  have  her  hair  made  ready  for  the  night? 

Fkancesca. 
No,  no,  I  am  not  sleepy.     I  will  wait. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

Her  shoes  unloosed? 

Ai.nA. 

The  perfumes  ? 

Francesca, 

I  will  wait 
A  little  more.     I  am  no  longer  sleepy. 
I  will  wait  until  Suiaragdi  romes. 


210  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Altichiara. 

Let  me  go 
And  seek  her. 

Garsenda. 
The  poor  thing  is  tired  perhaps, 
At   the  day's  end,  and  sleeps  where  she  has 

dropped. 
Perhaps  she  is  lying  now 
Upon  the  stairs. 

Francesca. 

Go,  go,  and  I  will  read 
Till  you  return.     Bring  me  a  taper,  Alda. 

[Alda  takes  a  taper  and  fixes  it  at  the  head  of 
the  reading-desk.] 
Go  now.     You  are  all  in  white ! 
The  Summer  is  not  dead? 

When  it  was  evening,  did  you  see  the  swallows 
Begin  to  fly  away? 
I  was  elsewhere, 
I  was  looking  on  the  hills, 
When  the  sun  set  to-night. 
They  have  not  all   flown  yet,  have  they  ?    But 

perhaps 
To-morrow  all  the  other  flocks  will  follow. 
I  will  go  up  on  the  tower,  to  see  them  go, 
And  you  will  sing  me  a  merry  song,  men  dance 

to. 
As  if  'twere  the  March  calends.     Have  you  still 
The  flight  of  swallows  painted,  as  you  had  ? 

Alda. 
Yes,  Madonna. 


FEANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  211 


Fkancesca. 
To-morrow  at  the  dance 
You  will  put  ou 
Over  these  white 
Dresses  a  vest  of  black. 
You  will  be  like 
"  The  creature  of  delight." 

BlANCOFIORK, 

Yes,  Madonna. 

Francesca. 

Go,  go! 

[She  opens  the  book.] 

[Each  of  the  Women  takes  her  silver  lamp,  which 
swings  from  a  cvrved  handle.  First  Adon- 
ELLA  goes  to  the  tall  candlestick,  and, 
standing  on  tiptoe,  lights  her  lamp  at  one 
of  the  torches.  She  boios,  and  goes  out, 
while  Francesca  folloxos  her  loith  her 
eyes.] 
Go,  too,  Adonella! 
[Garsenda  does  the  same.] 

And  you,  Garsenda. 

[Ai.tichiara  does  the  .same.] 
And  you,  too,  Altichiara. 

[Alda  does  the  same.] 

And  you,  Alda. 
[The four  have  gone  out,  one  by  one.    BiANO^ 
FiouK  remains,  and  she  also   is   about   to 
light  her  lamp,  hut  as  she  is  shorter  than  the 
others,  she  cannot  reach  the  flume.] 
Oh,  Biaucofiore,  what  a  little  one! 


Si2  FitANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

You  will  not  ever  reach  to  light  your  lamp. 
You  are  the  gentlest  of  them.    Little  dove, 

[BiANCOFiORE  turns  smiling.] 
Gomel 
[BiANCOFioRE  goes  up  to  her.     Francesca  ca- 
resses her  hair.\ 

It  is  all  of  gold.     You  are,  I  think, 
A  little  like  my  sister;  you  remember  her, 
Samaritaua? 

BlAXCOFIORE. 

Yes,  indeed,  Madonna. 

Such  sweetness  cannot  be  forgot.     I  have  her 

Here,  iu  my  heart,  with  the  angels. 

Francesca. 

She  was  sweet. 
My  sister;  was  she  not  sweet,  Biancofinre? 
All,  if  she  were  but  here,  if  sbe  mil  lit  make 
Her  little  bed  beside  my  bed  to-night! 
If  I  might  hear  again 
Her  little  naked  feet  run  to  the  window, 
If  I  might  hear  her  run  with  naked  feet, 
My  little  dove,  and  say,  and  say  to  me: 
"  Francesca,  now  the  morning-star  is  bom, 
And  it  has  chased  away  the  Pleiades  1" 

Biancofiore. 
You  weep,  Madonna. 

Francesca. 

You  tremble,  Biancofiore. 
She  too  was  frightened  of  a  sudden;  I  heard 
Her  heart  beat;  and  she  said  to  me:  "  O  sister, 
Listen  to  me:  stay  with  me  still,  O  stay 
With  me!  we  were  born  here: 


FRANCESCA  DA    RIMINI.  213 

Do  not  forsake  me !  " 

And  I  said  to  her:  "  O  take  me, 

And  let  me  be  with  you, 

And  let  one  covering  cover  usl  " 

BlANCOFIORE, 

O  Madonna, 

Your  words  pierce  through  my  heart. 

What  melancholy  holds  you 

Still? 

Fbancesca. 
No,  no,  do  not  weep: 
Gentle   you  are.     But  come,  light  your  lamp 
here. 

BlAXCOFIORE. 

May  I  not  stay  with  you?    May  I  not  sleep 
Here,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed? 

Francesca. 
No,  Biancofiore.     Light  your  lamp,  and  go, 
And  God  go  with  you.    Now  Saraaritana, 
It  may  be,  is  thinking  of  her  sister. 

[Biancofiore  lights  her  lamp  at  the  taper,  and 
bends  to  kiss  Francesca's  hand  \ 

Go, 
Go,  do  not  weep.     Let  all  sad  thoughts  go  by. 
To-morrow  you  shall  sing  to  me.    Now  go. 

[Biancofiore  turns  and  walks  slowly  towards 
the  door.  As  she  is  guin'j  out,  FuANCESCA 
(jives  way  to  her  preaentiment.] 

You  are  not  going,  Biancofiore? 


214  FRANCESCA  DA   RIMINI. 

BlANCOFIORE. 

No, 
I  will  stay  with  you,  Madonna.     Let  me  stay 
At  least  until  Smaragdi  has  come  back. 
Fkancesca 
{Hesitates  an  instantl. 
Go  I 

BlANCOFIORE. 

God  keep  you.  Madonna. 
[She  goes  out,  closing  the  door  behind  her.] 
[L^t    alone,   Fbancesca  makes  several  steps 
towards  the  door;  then  stands  stillf  listening.] 
Francesca. 
And  let  it  be  so  if  it  is  my  fate. 

[Goes  resolutely  up  to  the  door.] 
I  will  call  him. 

[Hesitates  and  draws  back.] 

He  is  still  there,  and  he  stands 
Leaning  against  the  wall; 
Still  as  a  statue,  all  alone;  his  girdle 
Shining  in  the  shadow.     Who  said  that  to  me? 
Who  was  it?    Was  it  not  said  long  ago? 
Within  the  helmet  all  the  face  like  fire  .  .  . 

[Visions  pass  before  her  soul  in  a  flash.] 
He  is  silent,  and  the  lances 
Of  the  spearmen  round  him. 
He  stands,  and  the  arrow  whistles  through  his 

hair. 
He  is  cleansed  from  the  pollution  of  the  guile. 
He  drains  the  long  di'aught,  throwing  back  his 
head. 


FRANCESCA  DA   RUIINI.  215 

Ah,  now  all's  gone  again! 
The  enemy  holds  fast 
The  secret  and  the  sword. 
"  The  executioner 
I  make  me  of  your  will." 
But  iron  shall  not  divide  the  lips,  but  flame 
Shall  not  divide  the  lips. 

[She  wanders  to  and  fro,  wretched  and  feverish.] 
The  utmost  flame  of  fire  shall  not  divide  them. 
[She  takes  up  the  silver  mirror  and   looks  at  her- 
self in  it.] 

0  silence,  and  still  water,  sepulchre, 
Pale  sepulchre  of  my  face  I 

What  is  this  voice  that  says 

1  never  was  more  beautiful  than  now? 
"And  in  the  solitude  that  was  on  fire 
With  your  eyes,  I  have  lived 

With  so  swift  energy. 
Travailing  secretly  "  .  .  .  . 
One  voice  alone  cries  out 
On  the  topmost  of  my  heart, 
And  all  the  blood  flies  ....  Ah! 
i  She  starts,  hearing  a  light  knocking  at  the  door. 
She  puts  down  the  mirror,  blows  out  the  taper 
with  a  breath,  goes  to  the  door,  tottering,  and 
calls,  in  a  low  voice.] 

Smaragdi!    Smaragdil 
Paolo 
[Voice  heard]. 
Francesca ! 

[She  flings  the  door  open  vehemently.  With  a 
craving  as  of  thirst  the  throws  herself  into  the 
arms  of  her  lover.  ] 


216  FBANCESCA  DA   BIMINL 

Fraxcesca. 
Paolo!  Paolo! 
[He  is  dressed  as  at  Vespers ;  his  head  is  bare.] 

Paolo. 
Life  of  my  life,  nevei"  was  my  desire 
So  ardent  for  you.     In  my  heart  I  felt 
A  dying  down 

Of  the  bright  spirits  that  live  within  your  eyes. 
My  forces  ebbed  away  into  the  night, 
Out  of  my  breast,  a  flood 
Terrible,  clangorous. 

And  fear  took  hold  upon  my  soul,  as  when 
In  that  sealed  hour. 

You  put  me  to  the  test,  God  witnessing. 
The  test  of  the  arrow. 
And  raised  me  there  whither  although  he  wills 

it 
No  man  returns  by  willing  to  return. 
Is  it  not  morning,  is  it  not  morning  yet? 
The  stars  have  all  gone  down  into  your  hair, 
Scattered  about  the  confines  of  the  shades, 
Where  life  may  never  find  them ! 
[He  kisses  her  hair  passionately  again  and  again.] 

Fbancesca. 

Pardon  me, 
Pardon  me!    Faraway 
You  come  before  me. 
Far  off  and  silent. 

With  fixed,  dry  eyeballs,  as  upon  that  day 
Between  the  inflexible  lances  of  the  fight. 
A  hard  sleep  falling  on  me  like  a  blow 
Scattered  my  soul 
As  a  stem  breaks,  and  then  I  seemed  to  lie 


FRANC  ESC  A  DA  EIMINI.  217 

Lost  on  the  stones.      And  then  there  came  to 

me 
The  dream  that  long  while  now 
I  have  seen  in  sleep,  the  strange 
Dream  that  has  tortured  me; 
And  I  was  full  of  many  terrors,  full 
Of  terrors;  and  my  women 
Saw  me,  and  how  I  trembled, 
And  how  I  wept  .  .  . 

Paolo. 
O,  wept! 
Fkancksca. 
Pardon  me,  pardon  me. 
Sweet  friend  i     You  have  awakened  me  from 

sleep, 
Freed  me  from  every  anguish. 
It  is  not  morning  yet, 

The  stars  have  not  gone  down  into  the  sea, 
The  summer  is  not  over,  and  you  are  mine, 
And  I,  I  am  all  yours, 
Ancl  this  is  perfect  joy 
The  passion  of  the  ardour  of  our  life. 
[Paolo  klssen  her  insatiably. \ 
Paolo. 
You  shivered? 

Francesca. 
See,  tlie  door 
Is  open,  and  there  passes 
The   breath  of   the   night.     Do  you  not  feel   it 

too? 
This  is  the  hour, 
The  hour  of  silence, 


218  FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

That  sheds  the  dew  of  night 

Upon  the  manes 

Of  horses  on  the  roads. 

But  shut  the  door. 

[Paolo  shuts  the  door.] 

Paolo,  did  you  see  with  your  own  eyes 

The  horsemen  as  they  went  away? 
Paolo. 

Yes,  yes, 

I    watched    them  from  the  tower,  for  a  long 
while 

Until  the  last  lance  faded 

Into  the  dark,  and  I  could  see  no  more. 

Come,  come,  Francesca!    Many  hours  of  glad- 
ness 

We  have  before  us. 

With  the  wild  melody  of  unknown  winds 

And  the  swift  ravishment  of  solitude 

In  fire,  and  the  violent 

River  without  a  goal, 

And  the  immortal  thirst; 

But  now  this  hour  that  flies 

Fills  me  with  lust  to  live 

A  thousand  lives, 

In  the  quiver  of  the  air  that  kisses  you, 

In  the  short  breath  of  the  sea, 

In  the  fury  of  the  world. 

That  not  one  thing 

Of  all  the  infinite  things 

That  are  in  you 

Lie  hid  from  me, 

And  I  die  not  before  I  have  ploughed  up 

Out  of  your  depths 


\  FRxiNCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  21i 

I         And  relished  to  its  infinite  root  in  you 

I         My  perfect  joy. 

1      \He  draws  her  towards  the  cushions  by  the  windows.] 

1  Fbancesca. 

I         Kiss  me  upon  my  eyes,  upon  my  brow, 

<         Upon  my  cheeks,  my  throat, 

J         So  .  .  .so  .  .  . 

t        Stay,  and  ray  wrists,  my  fingers  .  .  . 

I         So  .  .  .  so  .  .  .   And  take  my  soul  and  pour  it 

I  out, 

I         Because  the  breath  of  the  night 
Turns  back  my  soul  again 
i         To  things  of  long  ago, 
]         And  the  low  voices  of  the  night  turn  back 
I         My  soul  to  things  that  were, 
.         And  joys  enjoyed  are    they    that    now   weigh 
down 
My  heart,  and  as  you  were 
I  see  you  still,  and  not  as  you  shall  be, 
My  fair  friend,  my  sweet  friend. 

Paolo. 
I  will  carry  you  where  all  things  are  forgot, 
And  no  more  time  made  slave 
Is  lord  of  our  desire. 
Then  shall  the  day  and  night 
Be  mingled  even  as  one 
Upon  the  eartli  as  upon  one  sole  pillow; 
Then  sliall  the  hands  of  dawn 
No  more  unclasp  from  one  another's  holding 
The  dnsky  arms  and  tlic  white  arms  of  them. 
Nor  yet  untwist 
'J'lio  tangli;s  of  their  liairand  veins. 


220  FBANCESCA  DA  RIMINI. 

Fbancesca. 

It  says 
Here  in  the  book,  here  where  you  have  not  read : 
"  We  have  been  one  life;  it  were  a  seemly  thing 
That  we  be  also  one  death." 

Paolo. 

Let  the  book 
Be  closed ! 

[He  rises,  closes  the  book  on  the  reading  desk,  and 
blows  out  the  taper.] 

And  read  in  it  no  more.    Not  there 

Our  destiny  is  written,  but  in  the  stars, 

That  palpitate  above 

As  your  throat  palpitates, 

Your  wrists,  your  brow, 

Terhaps  because  they  were  your  garland  once, 

Your  necklet  when  you  went 

Burningly  through  the  ways  of  heaven?  From 
what 

Vineyard  of  earth  were  these  grapes  gathered  in? 

They  have  the  smell 

Of  drunkenness  and  honey, 

They  are  like  veins,  they  are  swollen  with  de- 
light, 

Fruits  of  the  night!    The  flaming  feet  of  Love 

Shall  tread  them  in  the  winepress.  Give  me 
your  mouth 

Again!  again! 

[Francesca  lies  back  on  the  cushions,  forgetful 
of  everything.  All  at  once,  in  the  dead  si- 
lence, a  violent  shock  is  heard  on  the  door. 


FRANCESCA  DA  RIMINI.  221 

as  if  some  one  hurled  himself  against  it.  The 
lovers  start  up  in  terror,  and  rise  to  their 
feet.] 

The  Voice  of  Gianciotto. 

Francesca,  open !    Francesca ! 

[The  Woman  is  petrified  with  terror.  Paolo 
looks  round  the  room,  putting  his  hand  to 
his  dagger.  He  catches  sight  of  the  bolt  of 
the  trap-door.] 

Paolo 
\In  a  low  voice]. 
Take  heart,  take  heart,  Francesca!     I  will  get 

down 
By  the  way  of  the  trap-door. 
Go,  go,  and  open  to  hira. 
But  do  not  tremble. 

[Ue  lifts  the  trap-door.  The  door  seems  to  qui- 
ver at  the  repeated  blows.] 

The  Voice  of  Gianciotto. 
Open,  Francesca,  open! 

Paolo. 
Open  to  him  !     Go  now. 
1  wait  beneath.     If  he  hut  touches  you 
Cry  out  and  I  am  with  ynu. 
Go  boldly,  do  not  tremble! 

\IIe  begins  to  go  down,  while  the  Woman  in  obe- 
dience to  him,  goes  to  open  the  door,  totter- 
ing.] 

The  Voice  of  Gianciotto. 
Open!  upon  your  life,  Francesca,  open! 
[The  door  being  opened  GiANCiorro,  armed,  and 
covered  with  dust,  nuthts  furiously  into  the 


222  FRANC  ESC  A  DA  RIMINI. 

room,  looking  for  his  brother  in  every  direC' 
lion.  Suddenii/  he  catches  sight  of  Paolo, 
standing  head  and  sJioulders  above  the  level  of 
the  floor,  struggling  to  free  himself  from  the 
bolt  of  the  trap-door,  lohich  has  caught  in  a 
corner  of  Jus  cloak.  Francesca  utters  a 
piercing  cry,  while  Gianciotto  falls  upon 
his  brother,  seizing  him  by  the  hair,  and  forc- 
ing him  to  come  up. 

Giaxciotto. 
So,  you  are  caught  in  a  trap, 
Traitor !    They  are  good  to  have  you  by  tlie  hair, 
Your  ringlets ! 

Francesca 
{rushing  forvmrd\. 
Let  him  go! 
Let  him  go!    Me,  take  me! 

[The  husband  loosens  his  hold.  Paola  springs 
up  on  the  other  side  of  the  trap-door,  and  un- 
sheathes his  dagger.  Gianciotto,  drawing 
back,  bares  his  sword,  and  rushes  upon  him 
with  terrible  force.  Francesca  throws  her- 
self between  the  two  men;  but  as  her  husband 
has  leant  all  his  weight  on  the  blow,  and  is  un- 
able to  draw  bock,  her  breast  is  pierced  by  the 
sivord,  she  staggers,  turns  on  herself,  towards 
Paola,  who  lets  fall  his  dagger,  and  catches 
her  in  his  arms.  \ 

Francesca 
[dying]. 

Ah,  Paolo! 
[Gianciotto  pauses  for  an  instant.    He  sees  the 
woman  clasf>ed  in  the  arms  of  her  lover,  who 


FRANCESCA  DA   EIMIXI.  220 

seals  her  expiring  life  with  his  lips.  Mad 
with  rage  and  sorrow,  he  pierces  his  brotker^s 
side  with  another  deadly  thrust.  The  two 
bodies  sway  to  and  fro  for  an  instant  without 
a  sound.  Then,  still  linked  together,  they  fall 
at  full  length  on  the  pavement.  Gtanciotto 
stoops  in  silence,  bends  his  knee  unth  a  painful 
effort,  and,  across  the  other  knee,  breaks  his 
blood-stained  sword.] 


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